Warped & Twisted
by JenBurch
Summary: What happens that will make Dean turn on his little brother? Why would he ever shoot Sam? And can they figure out how to fix it before life gets any worse for the Winchester's? Or will Sam's disappearing act change their lives forever? TeenChesters!
1. Chapter 1

A/N This story was written for SunnyJuneDays and Nessie. I hope you guys like it! It's going to be a challenge for me, thanks to Nessie who wants to see me write a teenfic! But I hope you like it sweets. And to SunnyJuneDays, I really hope you like the story, you've been waiting for it for long enough! I'm glad you're recovering so well and that your life can finally get back to normal… or as normal as life can ever really be! I hope I can do you both proud.

Special A/N – I received a review for my previous fic, Start to End, from someone who went by "A Fan", an anonomous reviewer with no email address for me to respond to. I just wanted to tell you, if you're reading this, that you have no idea what that review meant to me! I have never had anyone… well, I don't quite know what to say! I'm speechless, and that's saying something! LoL But, honestly, I'm an aspiring writer too. I want to be published one day, a full time novelist. I write fics because I love it and I love the show, and to be really honest with you I am not exactly my biggest fan. If anything I'm my own worst enemy, my biggest critic – which is, apparently, a trait most writers seem to have! Start To End was a story that ended up meaning a lot to me and I'm really glad that you liked it so much too. I'm really touched… and now I have to find my voice again to be able to write! LoL I hope you read this note, I really wanted to tell you thank you.

Disclaimer: As usual, not mine… not feeling particularly witty, so that's it. Saving my energy for the story ahead…

**Chapter One**

**Spinning Out Of Control**

Dean sighed as he led the way through the woods, his brother close behind. Sammy… _Sam _ was fourteen – a new fourteen, but fourteen none the less, and he had started getting an independent streak that he hadn't seen coming. Sam had always wanted to be independent, but it had always been because he wanted to be like Dean… now it was different. He used to like hunting with Dean, but now he wanted to be allowed to go off on his own, to cover another section of the woods instead of being lumped with his big brother.

Dean was suffering two very different reactions to this new side of Sam… one was extreme frustration, annoyed that it had led his brother to argue with their father at every turn, annoyed that he couldn't just understand that John knew what he was talking about because he'd been hunting for so long, instead he insisted on trying to make a case for himself and his own capabilities. Sam striding to be his own person was seriously beginning to get on Dean's nerves.

But the other side of how he felt with the new development of his little brother was harder for him to admit… he was sad. He missed his little brother, the boy who had followed him like a puppy dog, who had always wanted to be like him, who had worshipped him like most kids worshipped Superman or Batman. This Sam was a different person, and it made Dean realise that he was growing up… something he had hoped Sam would never really do. He wanted to keep Sam safe from the world, and that was easier when he had the power to send him to his room.

Still, Sam was on the hunt and so he had clamped his mouth shut, swallowed his objections and was concentrating on the job. Sam was probably doing a better job than he was, Dean realised, trying to focus his attention on where he was going.

They were hunting a creature Dean had never actually heard of before. It had been tormenting hunters in the woods, leaving little more than the innards of some of them, others made it out alive but were never the same again. Whenever Dean had asked anyone about the survivors, everyone had clammed up, refusing to speak to them again. The best John had been able to come up with, however, was it was some kind of chaos demon wreaking havock, but that didn't put Dean's mind at ease.

_"We usually know more about the thing we're hunting, Dad," Sam argued, sounding concerned. He had gone over the research his father had done and wasn't satisfied when he found there were at least three different demon's topping John's list of possibilities and several more under them.  
__  
"You can't always know everything about your opponent, Sammy," John snapped. Dean saw his brother physically wince at the use of his childhood nickname, his father still refusing to call him 'Sam'._

"_Yeah, but Dad, Sam's right," Dean piped up in an unusual moment of… well, protection for Sam was what spurred him on, but it was the defiance that had been unusual for him. He never defied his father, that was definitely new. "We may not know everything about what we're up against, but we don't go in there with ten different possibilities. Maybe you should do some more research, call Bobby or do some recon in the woods… talk to some people in town…"_

_John glared at Dean._

"_One disobedient son is more than enough thank you Dean," John snapped angrily. He turned to Sam. "And don't think you can get him on your side thinking that it'll change my mind."_

"_I didn't know he agreed with me, Dad," Sam insisted. "Maybe he just thinks we don't have enough information, maybe he just thinks I'm right about this!"_

_"That's enough, Sammy," John insisted. "Either get your ass in the car and come on the hunt or stay here and you can clean all the weapons when we get back…"_

Sam hated one thing more than not being listened to, and Dean knew what it was. He wondered if his father knew, but he dismissed the idea and guessed that the older Sam got the less his father knew about him… the fact that Sam hated the idea of Dean and their father hunting without him. He wanted to be there to look out for them, wanted to make sure they were okay… he hated sitting at home, waiting for them to walk in the door and having to imagine the multiple injuries he could be faced with when they got there.

The last time Sam had sat at home, before his father had deemed him old enough to hunt, Dean had come home covered in blood with a dislocated shoulder, a broken collar bone and several slashes across his chest. Sam had had to do what repair work he could on the injuries while their father packed up the car and rushed them the hour trip to the nearest hospital… after that Sam had insisted he be taught and trained, ready for the next hunt so he wouldn't have to sit at home alone.

And whenever that threat was made, it was the only thing that could call him into line. John didn't know why it was, but it had become obvious that he'd figured out it worked.

"You still with me there, Geek Boy?" Dean asked, glancing over his shoulder at his little brother. Sam seemed to have been distracted by something, he had stopped several feet behind Dean and was looking off to one side, passed Dean's shoulder. "What's wrong?"

Sam didn't answer, he just took a careful step forward. He seemed to be concentrating really hard, like he was afraid to scare a deer off when they were supposed to have veal for dinner. Dean had never seen Sam like that before and it had him worried. He glanced in the direction Sam was looking but couldn't see anything that would elicit a reaction from his brother – particularly not a reaction like this!

"Sam, what is it?" Dean asked, knowing his brother well enough to take him seriously, especially during a hunt. His father might have dismissed his brother's strange behaviour, Dean realised, but he knew that wasn't a wise thing to do right now. "What do you see?"

"Up there," Sam said, alongside Dean now as he pointed passed him and further up the track. "By those trees…"

"I just see shadows, Sam."

"In the shadows… I'm telling you, there's something there…" Sam said, raising his gun carefully and taking aim. "Did you see that?"

"I don't know," Dean admitted, straining to see what Sam was pointing at. He had thought he'd seen something, like a ripple in the shadows, but he couldn't be sure. "Maybe…"

Something lurched in the darkness and Dean raised his gun, immediately on high alert. Whatever it was launched itself at them, knocked Dean over and raced to the other side of the path. Dean hit the ground with a puff of wind as Sam dropped to his knees and opened fire.

"D'you get it?" Dean asked, gasping for breath as he got back on his feet.

"Winged it," Sam answered, not taking his eyes away from where the creature had disappeared. "You okay?"

"Fine, Sam," Dean assured him. He saw it moving towards the path, he was sure of it this time and he knew he was right when seconds later Sam had opened fire as well. "Shit that things fast!"

"Dean, I really don't think that's a chaos demon," Sam announced. He was cut off the instant the thing crashed into him, launching Sam a good ten feet off the path where he crashed into a tree.

"SAM!" Dean yelled, watching as Sam slid to a sickening lump on the ground, his eyes shut as he was robbed of all consciousness. "SAMMY!"

The creature was approaching Sam's slumped body slowly, as if he was drawing out a wonderful moment that needed to be savoured. Dean raised his gun and opened fire but realised the bullets were leaving no effect on the creature. Realising Sam was right, this was no chaos demon, he swapped from the gun with wrought iron rounds to the one that shot silver bullets and opened fire. He walked steadily toward the creature, anger in each step rising in his blood as he reached the creature that was threatening his little brother.

As he got closer, however, he realised that the creature was biding its time. The silver was having some effect on it, but not enough to kill it and by the time Dean realised his mistake he was lifted off his feet. He felt the sting in his neck as a claw dug deep into his flesh and a moment later everything was dark…

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

John heard Dean's yell and before he could think about what was happening he was racing in the opposite direction he had been heading, turning south toward where he'd sent his boys. He wasn't sure where they were, but he knew he had to find them. His heart was racing, images going through his mind of what was happening to his youngest son and he immediately felt ill. Swallowing the bile that rose in the back of his throat, John reminded himself that Sam was with Dean and Dean would be watching out for him. Sam was as safe on a hunt with Dean as if he'd been by his own side, and John knew he could trust Dean to watch out for his little brother…

But a father knows when something wasn't right, and there was definitely something in Dean's voice that screamed in his mind that there was a problem.

John halted on the path, listening out for some sound that would tell him where they were. He was closer, he was sure of it, but how close? What direction had they headed in from here? Were they on the path? Had they run into the creature?

Were they alive?

"Come on, Dean, where are you?" John whispered as if he could send the message to his eldest and get a reply that would lead him straight to his boys.

No such luck.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Sam pried his eyes open, knowing he was on a hunt and that he couldn't afford to let himself pass out. He knew he'd lost consciousness, but he was hoping it hadn't been for long enough for something to happen to his brother. He would never forgive himself if…

Sam looked up and immediately saw Dean hovering several feet off the ground. Something was holding his by the throat and there was blood trickling down one side of his neck. He still had no idea what it was, but he had to try something. Sam pulled himself to his feet and rushed the beast, knocking it off its feet enough that it dropped Dean in a heap on the ground. What looked like a shadow was solid, which meant it could be hurt… and killed.

Sam stood, his feet wide apart in a solid fighting stance, his arms raised at the ready. He'd pulled a knife from his pocket and flicked it open, holding it in his right hand, ready for anything. The knife was nothing special, but it had been blessed and most evil creatures didn't like that very much…

Sam hoped this one wouldn't either…

"Sam," Dean murmured, trying to pull himself to his feet. He stumbled a moment but finally managed to get up when he saw Sam ready to go one on one in hand to hand combat with a beast that defied explanation. Dean had to distract the thing, he had to give Sam a chance to get away. "HEY!"

The creature immediately turned toward Dean, hitting him square across the face before he had a chance to react, knocking him several feet up the path.

Dean landed with a painful wheeze, darkness blurring his vision for a moment.

"Damn," he muttered, fighting against the need to close his eyes. Sam needed him to stay away.

"DEAN!" Sam called, rushing the creature again. He'd seen blood on his brother's arm from the strike and knew the creature had cut him… this creature, whatever it was, had a weakness and Sam wanted to figure out what it was. He threw itself at it, grabbing it by what could only be described as its throat, only to feel claws dig into his shoulder instead, forcing him to drop his knife.

Sam had run out of weapons, he realised, and there were very few options he had left when he had no idea what he was facing.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

John heard Sam's voice now and immediately turned in that direction. He still couldn't tell how far away they were, but he was growing more and more convinced that they couldn't be too much further up the path.

He pushed himself to limits he had never known he possessed when he heard a scream that had no right to be in this world… and he was convinced it wast one of his boys.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Sam pulled himself to his feet again, getting frustrated with being knocked around. This thing had no intention of fighting him, it just continued to swat at him like a fly and focussed everything on Dean. Every time Sam got in the way, the creature would push him aside and head straight for Dean again. Whatever kind of thing you have for my brother, Sam thought angrily. You can just forget it… you're not getting him!

Realising he wasn't getting anywhere with taking the creature one on one, Sam looked around him in desperation to find a weapon that would work against the creature. He saw a dried tree branch at the side of the path and scooped it up quickly. It was heavier than he had been prepared for, but he didn't care. There was no time to find another one…

Dean let out an unnatural scream as the thing reached down and grabbed his leg. Sam was sure it was digging its claw into him again. He pulled a lighter from his pocket and flicked it open quickly. Thumb on the flint, and nothing but sparks, but the scream grew louder and Sam fought harder with the lighter until he was finally rewarded with a flame.

"Come on," he muttered, setting fire to the end of the branch and pocketing his lighter quickly before hurrying toward the thing that had started dragging his bother off. Dean was struggling against it, but with each fight the claw was dug deeper and his scream grew more painful.

Sam lurched at the creature, thrusting the lit branch straight at it. The darkness seemed to disappear around the flame and the creature screamed over Dean's pained cries. Sam kept swinging and swinging, sometimes hitting it square on, sometimes just making dent in the darkness, but one last thrust and the branch seemed to go straight through the middle.

And then it was gone…

Sam stomped out the flame and quickly dropped beside his brother, pulling him to sit up.

"Dean," he gasped, seeing how pale Dean had become in the few minutes Sam had had to contend with the tree branch. "Are you okay?"

"D'ya get it?" Dean asked, his voice a grunt of pain as he let Sam pull him to his feet.

"I think I hurt it," Sam told him. "But I think it'll be back… we gotta go…"

As Sam and Dean headed back up the path toward the car, Dean limped more than he would ever admit and Sam sore from hitting the tree, they saw John running toward them. He looked frantic and Sam couldn't help but want to laugh – but he was too tired. He had gotten damn lucky as Dean was being targeted by the creature – lucky to escape with the injuries he had instead of anything worse, and lucky that Dean hadn't been killed. Sam had no mistaken ideas that it had been luck and adrenaline that had saved his brother's life, nothing to do with his skill as a hunter… in fact he felt like he had let Dean down in that area. Dean shouldn't have been hurt at all, and if Sam was any good at the family business he wouldn't have let it happen.

"You boys okay?" John asked.

"A few bumps and bruises," Dean answered him. It sounded to Sam like Dean was finding it hard to breathe, but he didn't say anything. Until they got back to the motel there'd be no checking wounds since the creature was on the loose.

"Tell me you got it," John asked Dean, his voice stern.

"No sir," Dean told him. "I spent most of my time on the ground, it was Sam who fought the thing."

John looked at Sam for answers, but Sam saw something in his eyes that caught his attention first.

"Don't look surprised," he insisted. "I'm not completely useless."

"I never said you were," John told him through gritted teeth. "Just tell me what happened… you get it?"

"This is not a chaos demon," Sam said before taking Dean by the good arm and helping him further up the path. "And no I didn't get it, I injured it… we gotta get out of here and figure out what we're dealing with."

John opened his mouth to argue, but Sam knew he had won this round… you can't argue in a hunt, especially when there was a pissed off creature out there hungry for blood. You might be able to push my buttons to get what you want, Dad, Sam thought. But I know what buttons to push too.

"Dean's hurt," he added, satisfied that he'd hit the right nail to close the coffin of this particular argument. John nodded and took Dean's other side, taking more of Dean's weight off his bad leg.

If there was one thing Sam knew, Dean was a trigger for both of them. As much as Dean wanted to protect Sam, Sam wanted to protect Dean too… and John, well he'd made no secret of which brother was at the top of his Christmas list.

Sam sighed. Most families were proud when their kids brought home good grades, but Sam's report card was still burning a hole in his desk drawer at home and Sam had no intention of handing it over just to hear the huff his father gave him when he looked over it. That huff meant Sam spent too much time studying for school and not enough time training for the hunt… Dean was a full time hunter, now, and even before he'd finished school he had been the golden child of the Winchester clan. He, after all, didn't argue back, he didn't fight John on decisions, he followed orders, did as he was told and… well, Sam knew that Dean was stronger than he was. Dean was the better fighter, the better hunter, the better shooter. Sam had speed on his side, he knew that, but that didn't count for much if you weren't strong enough to put that speed to good use.

Dean seemed to lose balance all of a sudden and Sam tightened his grip on his older brother's waist. Something was bothering Sam, something he was sure they were missing and it was vital…

…he just hoped he'd be able to figure it out before John made them go up against the creature that wasn't a chaos demon!

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Dean watched as Sam sat at the desk across the room, flicking through ancient texts for different demons. Dean knew that they didn't have much more to go on other than a vague description and the things that DIDN'T effect the damn thing, but he knew that if anyone could figure it out it would be Sam. Dean was pretty damn proud of his little brother, in spite of what Sam thought. He knew Sam felt second rate, that his family looked down on him, and that hurt Dean a little. He never thought less of Sam, he just wished he would stop fighting their father at every turn. Life was so much quieter in the Winchester… well, home was a stretch… but before Sam started going through this mean independence thing he seemed to be going through.

"Ow!" Dean muttered as his father jabbed the needle into his arm. "Can you be a little more gentle with that thing?"

John didn't say anything, he just rolled his eyes and jabbed the needle again. Dean was relieved that only one of the slashes on his arm was bad enough to need stitches, that it wasn't quite as bad as he had though in the woods, but now the needle his father insisted on jabbing into already sore flesh was starting to hurt more than the injuries the demon had inflicted on him! His father was good at the repairs they needed at times, but when he was in a foul mood he wasn't the gentlest person with a needle. He seemed to forget that Dean was attached to what he was working on.

Dean saw Sam shoot him a look and immediately wished he was the one stitching Dean's arm. Sam, for all his moods and tempers, immediately let go of any anger he felt while he tended to the injuries of his family… especially when the injured party was Dean. Sam had yet to hurt him, and now he wanted to beg his brother to take over from his father.

He could see the same thought going through Sam's mind, but the younger boy said nothing. Dean understood why, since trying to take over from John Winchester was akin to walking on a bed of hot coals, but he wished he would do it anyway.

"What I don't get," Sam piped up, eyeing Dean careful as Dean grimaced as another stitch went through. "Is why silver didn't work… nothing seemed to work on this thing except fire and wood… and even then, it didn't kill it."

"What happened when you used it?" John asked, poking Dean again.

"Dad, seriously!" Dean complained, pulling the needle carefully from his father's hand. "I've had enough sharp implements poking at me tonight, can you give it a rest?"

"I have to stitch this up, Dean," John reminded him.

"Well, if it's okay with you, I'd much rather Sammy do it," Dean told him, gritting his teeth as his arm began to throb. "I think you're helping the demon a little much right now."

John scowled but looked over at Sam.

"Well?" he asked. Sam didn't need any more of an invitation than that as he left his books and hurried to Dean's side. He took the needle gently from Dean's hand and immediately began the work to make Dean's injuries better. Dean sighed in relief as the first Sam-stitch went in with a lot less pain than his father's had. "So what happened with the demon?"

"Oh," Sam muttered, concentrating. "Um, it was weird. It was like a big shadow and it kind of disappeared when the fire touched it, like it was shrinking from the light… I think it's just a weakness, though, I don't think it would actually kill it."

"Have you found anything in those books of yours yet?" John asked, sitting at the desk and glancing at Sam's notes.

"I only just started, Dad," Sam reminded him. "It could take a little while… I don't have any answers right now, but I'm working on it."

Dean breathed a sigh of relief and eased his jaw open as he realised how much he'd been clenching it shut against the pain. Sam had cut the thread for the last stich and was now cleaning and dressing Dean's other wounds. He was especially relieved that the puncture wound in his neck and leg weren't very bad and only needed a clean to prevent infection, but it did occur to him that they had hurt worse than any of his other injuries.

When Sam tried to move away from Dean and head back to his books, Dean grabbed him gently.

"Not so fast," he told his little brother, tugging him gently to sit on the bed where Dean had just been sitting. "You got a few scratches that need looking at… and your back."

"What happened to your back?" John asked, having noticed the blood staining Sam's shirt. There wasn't much there and he knew the injuries were minor, but he hadn't heard anything about Sam hurting his back. He hadn't noticed anything, either.

"Nothing," Sam muttered. Dean saw frustration in his brother's eyes at being made to sit still when he had research to do that he deemed more important.

"He got tossed into a tree," Dean told his father, cleaning and dressing the scratches on Sam's arm. They weren't too bad, either, he realised. But then it was obvious Sam hadn't been the main target of this particular demon's rampage… Dean wasn't sure he liked being in the things sights, but he was relieved that Sam hadn't been on the receiving end of its wrath either. "Gotta check that head too… you seeing double? Dizzy at all? Nauseous?"

"No, Dean," Sam assured him, rolling his eyes.

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

"You were knocked out, Sam, it's not a strange question."

"Only for a second, and I'm fine!" Sam insisted, getting to his feet and pushing Dean's hand away as he put the last touches on the dressing. He moved away but Dean grabbed hold of him and pulled his sweater and shirt up to reveal large purple bruises already forming on his back.

"Damn, Sammy," Dean muttered. "That gotta hurt."

John muttered a silent curse word that neither of the boys caught, wondering how he had missed the pain Sam had to be in with those bruises.

"Not really," Sam muttered, pulling away and letting his shirt fall down again. Dean knew their father hadn't missed the ugly bruises, but he didn't say anything. Instead he just kept a close eye on Sam as he walked to the chair and sat back down after John moved. It wasn't lost on Dean – or John – how stiffly Sam was moving, though Dean had to wonder why they hadn't noticed before.

"Sam…" Dean tried again, wanting to get his brother to rest for a while. That was not an easy hunt and the demon had gotten the jump on Dean so Sam had been left trying to fend it off before it killed them both. There had been a serious role reversal, and Dean didn't like it. He hated that Sam had had to fight on his own like that, that he had been so worried about his brother he had ignored his own safety and injuries.

"There's something about that demon that's bothering me," Sam muttered, leaning over his books again. "I can't quite put my finger on it, but I'm sure it's familiar…"

Dean sighed and sank back onto the bed. His part in the hunt, for now, was over. There was nothing he could do but wait…

He saw the frustration on his father's face as the same realisation occurred to him. Sam was a real live boy genius and they had learned quickly that they weren't really helping when they jumped in on the research unless Sam asked them to. And judging from the way the hunt had gone, John's research hadn't been too accurate this time out. It was unusual for John to get the research wrong, Dean knew, but he'd taken this hunt on for another hunter who had given him some sketchy information and people in town weren't feeling very talkative. John had worked with the information he'd had, and Dean knew that any one of those chaos demons could have matched the profile they had to work with.

Dean closed his eyes and trusted his brother to figure it out even as he wished he would just rest…

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John wasn't sure how long he had been asleep for, but he knew it was late as he glanced around the room. Everything was silent, dark, a cold bite to the air. There was a tiny ray of light somewhere in the room, and John rubbed his eyes tiredly as he sat up to see where it was coming from. He could hear Dean snoring lightly in the bed nearby, but when he checked Sam's bed it was empty. Fear lurched in his chest for a moment as his eyes darted around the room in search for his youngest son… only to find the source of the light was the desk lamp Sam had been using to read. He had knocked it over as his body had finally given out and he had dropped off to sleep. His head rested on the book in front of him scrunching up a few pages, the pen was still in his hand dangling from lifeless finger. He seemed so peaceful for someone who had fallen asleep reading about ancient creatures that could rip your intestines out through your ears… or so John discovered as he approached Sam and glanced at the notes he had made mere seconds before he'd fallen asleep.

John knew it had been seconds because Sam's writing trailed off and the word 'ears' was on three different lines as he'd fought to stay awake.

Relieved his son had finally lost the battle to pull yet another all-nighter, John pulled Sam gently to his feet and led him carefully to his bed. Though Sam's legs stumbled along in the dark, Sam remained asleep as John lowered him to his pillow, pulled off his boots and covered him with the heavy blanket. Sam's brow was furrowed as if he was worried about something and John ran a gentle hand over his face to smooth out the worry lines that were threatening to interrupt the young boy's rest.

"It's okay, Sammy," John told him, his voice low and soothing. "You did good, today, just rest now…"

Sam moaned lightly but seemed to visibly relax under John's touch and when John was sure he was out for the count he straightened and stumbled back to his own bed. His boys, though slightly damaged, were safe and that's all he worried about. He rolled over to get comfortable again when he heard a moan coming from the bed his oldest son was occupying. He sounded like he was in pain, hurt and afraid, but before John could move to wake him and make sure he was okay, Dean drifted off into a deeper sleep yet again and John settled back down.

The boys were okay, he was sure of that. They were Winchester's after all…

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The next morning Dean woke up with a blinding headache. He knew immediately he had overslept but he could barely get his eyes to stay open as he dragged himself to sit up. The night before had really taken it out of him, every muscle in his body was aching. The stitches in his arm felt like they were on fire, pain shooting down his arm. His back and neck hurt and his eyes took a while to focus.

The first thing Dean saw clearly was his little brother shoving books in his bag. He was fully dressed, his hair dripping slightly from the shower he must have had before Dean woke up, and he had a piece of toast between two teeth. He grabbed up his bag and bit into the toast.

"Hey, you're up," Sam greeted him, grinning even as he winced at the weight his bag put on his battered back. "You don't look too good, you okay?"

Dean cleared his throat, it was painful and dry.

"Yeah, dude, I'm fine," Dean assured him. "I'm just tired, long night, you know?"

"Hell yeah!" Sam laughed, rubbing his neck. "Last thing I remember was working at the desk, but I woke up in bed… you have something to do with that?"

"Not guilty," Dean assured him, getting to his feet and heading for the counter that subbed for a kitchen to make a coffee. "You going somewhere?"

"School," Sam reminded him. "But I've got a couple of ideas about that thing from last night, so I thought I'd go to the library after and do a bit more research."

"You're going to school?" Dean asked, confused. He could have sworn it was Sunday.

"Of course," Sam told him. Dean saw the suspicion in his brother's eyes and he tried to hide his own confusion. He felt like he had missed a day, he was sure they'd gone on the hunt on Saturday night… "You okay?"

"I'm fine…" Dean told him, his answer not even convincing him. He heard the shower turn off in the bathroom as his father finished up and sighed. "You need a ride to school?"

Sam nodded.

"I wanna get there a little early, there's a book I need and I'm hoping they'll have it in," Sam explained. "It's this ancient text, hard to come by, but this library has a pretty good second on the paranormal."

"Supernatural," Dean corrected.

"That too," Sam agreed. "You ready?"

"Not quite," Dean announced, stopping Sam before he could reach the door. He tugged on Sam's bag until he dropped it and put on by the door. "I want to have a look at your back first."

"Dean…"

"Not negotiable, Sammy," Dean told him. "If you figure this thing out today, or if Dad and I do, we're going to be going hunting tonight. No way you're getting anything passed me. If you're hurt, I want to know how bad… and if it could slow you down, then you're staying behind tonight."

"Dean!"

"End of story, Sammy, now show me!" Dean snapped, his tone harsher than he had intended. Sam bit his lip, a look of hurt spreading over his eyes as Dean turned him around and lifted his shirt.

"It's Sam," Sam muttered under his breath. Dean rolled his eyes at the comment but ignored it. His breath caught hard in his chest when he saw the dark painful bruises that covered most of one side of Sam's back. They faded a little on the other side, Dean realised. Sam hadn't hit the tree square on, he had hit in with more force on his right side… Dean sank to the bed as he looked closer. There must have been a notch on the tree because there was a darker bruise just below Sam's right shoulder blade where it had dug into his flesh.

"Geez, Sam," Dean breathed, pressing gently on the darkest area to check the swelling. "You gotta be in a world of hurt!"

"Nah," Sam argued. "I've had worse."

Dean closed his eyes a moment, wishing Sam hadn't said that. His brother shouldn't have to suffer injuries like this one… or any of the others he'd had over the years. It wasn't fair, he shouldn't have to grow up and live this life. It had been inevitable, Dean knew, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

"Maybe you should stay home today," Dean suggested as Sam tugged his shirt back down around him and turned around. "You should rest. We could get some ice on it…"

"And are you going to rest?" Sam asked pointedly. "I saw you still limping before."

"Only a little, Sam, and it's not the same," Dean told him. "Besides, I'm going to be researching with Dad today… you've got classes, you've gotta lug all those heavy books around all day, and don't you have gym today?"

Sam nodded.

"Well, at least let me get Dad to write you a note to get out of gym," Dean suggested, his eyes pleading with his brother. "If nothing else, we don't want anyone seeing those bruises and thinking Dad went on a bender last night, do we?"

"No," Sam agreed, glancing at the bathroom door. "But I'm not missing gym. Trust me, it'll be fine! We're doing track today anyway, so I'll just get to do some laps and stuff… I'm okay, I swear."

Dean sighed. There was no arguing with Sam this time, and he knew it.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

A little over half an hour later, Dean was heading back to the motel after dropping Sam at the library. His head was still hurting and he swallowed some aspirin before he'd started the trip home, but it hadn't kicked in yet and he felt like his head would explode into tiny pieces any second. He took a deep breath, rubbing the spot on his neck where the creature had dug its claw into him as it began throbbing in time with his heart. It felt hot to his touch, but he figured that it might just need a bit of a clean out to make sure it wasn't getting infected. He was sure he'd be able to take care of that himself…

He wasn't sure how much more he'd be able to take, however, when his eyes began to blur and his vision swam. His arm jerked against the steering wheel, dragging the Impala into the other lane where he was faced with oncoming traffic.

"Shit!" Dean exclaimed, jerking back on the wheel before a truck took him out. He considered pulling over and waiting for his vision to clear, but something told him he had to get home and lie down. His whole body felt like it was on fire and he was starting to feel like he was losing control of himself. His body was turning against him, refusing to do what he wanted it to do, refusing to listen to his brains commands. Simple commands, too, Dean thought to himself. Like get Sammy to school and get home in one piece… not several pieces!

He could see the motel up ahead and took a deep breath to focus. He indicated his turn, but before he could do anything else he felt his foot hit the accelerator instead of the brake and he crossed over in front of on coming traffic once again, knocking down a baby tree before ploughing into the parking lot…

Dean's vision cleared as his father came rushing out of the room.

"Dean!" he called, yanking open the car door. Dean didn't remember stopping or switching off the car, but he knew he must have because he wasn't moving anymore. "You okay? What the hell happened?"

Dean shook his head, not sure he had an answer. He climbed out of the car and turned to face his father, ready for the tongue lashing that was sure to come.

"You drove Sammy to school? You look like shit! You shouldn't have been driving, you could have gotten your bother killed!" John continued. "Fix that parking before you come inside, and then you'd better lie down before you really do hurt someone! What's wrong with you?"

Dean swallowed, glancing down at the Impala.

"I have a headache," he answered dumbly.

John looked closely at Dean's eyes, concern etching his face.

"You take anything?" John asked him. Dean nodded. "Aspirin?"

Dean nodded again.

"Looks like you've got more than a headache, Dean," John sighed. "You've got a migraine, I'd say… you're vision blurry?"

"A little," Dean mumbled, looking down. "Nothing major."

"Nothing major? You nearly took out the motel sign! You nearly put the car through the wall!" John raised his voice again without realising he'd started ranting once more. "It's a good thing there were no people around, and no cars parked nearby… how did you even control the car?"

Dean shrugged, hoping his father would drop it and stop yelling. His head was hurting him enough as it was, his father's raised volume wasn't helping matters. He honestly didn't remember anything passed hitting the tree and he knew how lucky that made him. He glanced down at the Impala, finally realising what his father was talking about. The Impala was parked perfectly straight… but it's front wheels were up over the curb and halfway on the porch.

"Shit," he muttered, finally understanding how lucky he had really come.

"Go inside, Dean," John told him. "Lie down, I'll move the car and be in in a minute…"

Dean nodded and headed inside. He wondered what was wrong with him. He'd never had a migraine before, it didn't seem right… somehow he had never thought they could cause anything like this! He had thought they were just bad headaches… he would never underestimate them again.

The last thing Dean remembered hearing was the gentle rumbling of the Impala…

**TO BE CONTINUED**

**A/N – Well, there's the first chapter, I hope you like it. Feel free to review, I love reviews! Keeps the wheels turning the muse amused!**


	2. Chapter 2

_Teaser: Be prepared as the 'real' world threatens to get in the way of the hunt…_

Disclaimer: As usual, not mine… not feeling particularly witty, so that's it. Saving my energy for the story ahead…

**Chapter Two**

**Delaying The Hunt**

Sam had changed for gym, keeping his jersey on in spite of how hot it had gotten. He couldn't risk anyone seeing the bruises on his back, just like Dean had been worried about, but at the same time he knew that his training and his being allowed to stay on the hunt depended on him staying fit and strong. Sam had been hunting for a few years now, having started hunting younger than Dean had but he'd been determined to make sure that his father and brother didn't get hurt anymore. He knew now that he couldn't have done much back then to stop it, but now he was older and stronger he knew he could make a difference. He wished his father could see that but he wasn't going to kid himself that his father would think him anything more than a hindrance. Still, John wanted his boys to grow up like soldiers, so he hadn't argued when Sam had insisted he start training harder than before, pleading with his father to prepare him for the next hunt.

Now, however, Sam took his own training upon himself. At least the physical side of things, anyway. He ran laps, he swam every chance he got, he participated religiously in gym class and took everything on the way he thought his father would take on each battle he faced. He was competitive and strong, and he usually won whatever he was playing at. Some of the other boys in his class didn't like him because they couldn't beat him, his natural athletic abilities teamed with his life or death determination made him an impossible opponent to beat, and yet they all fought to have him on their team.

Today, however, was track. Sam liked track, it was time he could run and think and focus, without worrying about anyone bugging him or threatening him or trying to get him to carry a whole team. He knew he was fast enough to beat anyone there, but he was there to train, to work on his speed and resilience and endurance.

"Winchester!" Coach Mortimer called to him. "You wearing a sweater for any particular reason?"

"Yes, Coach," Sam told him honestly. "Working on being able to run in any weather under any conditions, Coach."

Coach Mortimer smiled. He was a tough man, though nothing compared to John Winchester. His classes were rough, but John Winchester's training was rougher. The other kids complained, but this was a holiday to Sam and he knew how to work his way around the Coach to get what he needed out of each class.

"Good idea, Winchester. I like you're way of thinking," he announced. "Start your laps, Winchester. You got your stopwatch?"

"Yes sir."

"Good, go!" Coach instructed.

Sam took off at a trot to head for the track. He pulled his stopwatch out and set it read to go, grimacing when he heard Coach Mortimer's next words.

"One in, all in as the Navy would say!" he announced, a new tone to his voice. "Back to the locker rooms and put on your sweaters! It's about time you all learned a bit of durability!"

Sam rolled his eyes, regretting that his need to hide bruises from the coach would make everyone else suffer. They would really hate having a Winchester in their class if this kept up he realised. He hit the button on the stopwatch and took off to do his first lap.

His back was aching, every step putting strain on sore muscles and bruised flesh. He felt the cuts on his arm starting to rub against their dressings, but he ignored it. He would get a chance later to fix that up later, right now he was going to use this as an opportunity to push through the pain and learn to fight in spite of his physical condition. He would use exercise to work out sore muscles and become stronger, just like Dean. He wouldn't be the weak member of the herd anymore, as his father said every so often. Usually it was when Sam complained about not being allowed to split up from his brother on a hunt, his father would say, _"That's ridiculous, Sammy. You don't make it easy for an opponent to pick off the weak member of the herd!"_

The words his father liked to use to keep him in line stung, but now they gave him the motivation he needed to push through the pain and discomfort he needed to run faster than ever before. He saw red blurs heading toward the track as the other students arrived with their sweaters on, but he ignored them and kept running. He sensed people watching him, talking about him, but he didn't care. Nothing was going to stop him, nothing could get in his way…

Until Coach blew the final whistle, calling everyone in from the track and announcing that class was over. Sam glanced at the stopwatch, seeing that all his lap times had improved by a little over a second. He'd reached a personal best and it made him feel much better than he had since the hunt last night that had made him feel completely useless. Dean shouldn't have gotten hurt, Sam knew he should have been able to protect his older brother. Dean had, after all, always protected Sam… it should be able to work the other way around.

He felt completely ready to face the creature again, determination in every step as he made his way to the locker room.

As Sam headed toward the locker room, Brooster reached him. Brooster was an older kid but he was in Sam's class because Sam had gone up a level already. They were teamed up together in a track meet the following month, and although they weren't exactly friends Brooster had been talking to him a bit the passed week since Sam had beaten him at practice race the previous week.

"Hey, Coach says you set a new record," Brooster greeted him. "Way to go!"

"Thanks," Sam smiled, hoping this new friendly attitude of Brooster's would last. It wasn't fun being hated and in demand at the same time.

"Here," Brooster handed him a bottle of water. "Coach doesn't want you collapsing from heat or something…"

Sam accepted the drink and drained it quickly, relieving the dryness in his throat before it became too painful. Things were looking up – he'd set a new record, the coach was proud of him, Brooster was being nice to him, and he had a lead on the demon they were hunting… finally, things were going right!

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

John watched Dean sleeping fitfully on top of the covers. The room wasn't as dark as he would've liked to make it for his son, but it was the best he could do. There wasn't enough light to read by, but he borrowed Sam's bed and forced his eyes to adjust as he went over Sam's notes from the night before. He could see that Sam had followed a couple of leads and come up with some better suggestions of what the demon was, but he wasn't quite there yet. Still, with the new information the boy had taken note of from the failed hunt the night before, he had better theories than John had had going into it.

He was angry, more than a little angry, that he hadn't been given more information going in. He had inherited this hunt from Joshua, a good friend of his, and he found it hard to believe that he hadn't thought to explain things a little better. Deciding to get to the bottom of the issue with his friend, he snatched up his cell phone and headed out of the room. He left the door ajar so he could keep an eye on Dean. He was more worried than he would let on, migraines could be debilitating and Dean had never had one before. John pushed his concern aside, assuring himself Dean could sleep it off and be ready for the hunt that night – assuming Sammy had figured things out, of course. It was a lot of responsibility to put on the kids shoulders, but Sam seemed to thrive on the research, and John had been working on it all day and hadn't gotten much further than his younger son. He was stuck with the texts that he had here, and Sam had obviously taken some books with him… he knew the information he needed was probably in those books, and he hoped that, if nothing else, Sam would bring them home after school in enough time for him to be able to do some reading.

Just in case Sam didn't have the answers John needed.

John dialled Joshua's number and waited for his friend to answer. He did, on the fifth ring, and he sounded tired.

"Hey John man, how you doing?" Joshua greeted him. "How's the hunt?"

"It sucks, to be honest," John snapped. "You gave me nothing to go on, Josh, and the people here are more closed mouth than… well, I've met more talkative ghosts in my time! You could've told me what we were walking in on."

"Whoa, John, I told you everything I knew, okay?" Joshua told him. "I thought chaos demon, I didn't know anything more than the towns people were willing to talk about… did something happen?"

"Yeah, this ain't no damned chaos demon, and it took my fourteen year old son to figure that out!" John snapped.

"Way to go, Sammy!" Joshua cheered proudly.

"Yeah, well you obviously didn't get the memo, but it's Sam now… and as usual I figured that I – and the fully grown hunter who handballed me this deal – knew better, so I ignored him," John snapped again. Glancing in at Dean, sleeping, pale with a light sheen of sweat on his brow, he felt anger growing even hotter in his blood. "It nearly got them killed!"

Joshua was quiet.

"Are they okay?" he asked at last.

"No thanks to you or me," John admitted, softening as he realised that Sam had also disagreed with his decision to split up and because he had insisted he hadn't been there to protect his boys. "You should've told me more, Josh."

"I didn't have anything else to tell you," Joshua told him. "I told you I'd only just started the hunt when I got called to Indiana… there was nothing I could do. John, I'm sorry…"

John sighed.

"Sam's on the research," John told his friend, closing his eyes. "I don't know how this kid does it, but he finds resources that I have never even heard of… he's got it narrowed down to four demons at the moment from what I can tell, and that's a damn sight closer than I came…"

"Me too," Joshua agreed. "The kids scary smart, John."

"Tell me about it," John sighed. He heard Dean muttering in his sleep. "I gotta go, I gotta check on Dean."

"Is he okay?" Joshua asked, concern in his voice.

"He's got one hell of a headache," John told him. "He'll be fine, but I have to get some more pills into him before he gets the nausea part of a migraine too…"

John hung up and hurried back inside to tend to his older son. Migraines could last days, John knew. He really hoped Dean would be able to recover quicker than that, this creature had already had one more night to hurt someone else, and John didn't want to sit around for another night while it happened again.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Sam stepped out of his shower cubicle fully clothed, still remembering Dean's warning about the bruises on his back. No way he was going to rain anymore trouble on his family, no way he would give anyone the opportunity to take him from them. He had to be there, if for no other reason than to make sure they didn't get themselves killed. Sam knew they were better able to protect him than he was able to protect them, but he was training harder all the time to fix that and it made him feel better to know that he was with them on a hunt anyway.

He felt energised and excited, ready to take on the world and beat the demon down single-handedly if he had to, after a particularly successful training session. Today had gone a lot better than he had expected it to, and he was tempted to run home and fill his father in on everything he knew about the demon so they could start the hunt…

"Hey, Winchester," Brooster called to him. "Better shift your ass, Coach is calling!"

Sam's smile was replaced with a scowl. Brooster was grinning at him with a smug look on his face.

"Yeah," Sam answered back shortly.

"Yeah, he wants his little pet to come out and tell everyone how he's the best and the brightest and what his secret is!" Brooster told him. "He likes 'em quick, you know?"

Sam shook his head as Brooster walked out of the locker room, and grabbed his bag. He was pissed off, sick of Brooster's attitude. One minute he was being nice and encouraging, the next minute he suggests that Sam had something going with the coach? That was disgusting, it was just…

As fury rushed through Sam's body he realised he had run after Brooster and grabbed him by his shirt, throwing him against the wall. Brooster tried to move, to push Sam aside, but Sam pushed him against the wall again, raising his knee into the older boys stomach. Brooster doubled over, grabbed his abdomen and stumbled away from Sam… but Sam launched himself at him and knocked him to the ground, pressing down on his chest with his knees and raising his fist.

"Winchester!" Coach Mortimer yelled, grabbing Sam's arm before he could hit the boy. "What's gotten into you?!?!"

Sam spun around and took a swing at the coach, but the man ducked and grabbed Sam again to hold him back. Sam struggled a moment before relaxing and trying to catch his breath.

"He said… he said…" Sam stammered, trying to explain what had happened. He wasn't entirely sure he knew what had happened, but at least he could tell the coach what he did know. "He said you were… and I… and he was saying…"

"Whoa, kid, slow down," Coach Mortimer told him, letting him go carefully. "Why don't you go and get a drink, calm down a bit and then meet me at the headmasters office, okay? We'll talk about it there… but Sam… I can't have you beating the crap out of the other students, you understand?"

Sam nodded, blinking his eyes in confusion.

"Go, before I make you run more laps…"

Sam headed off to find a phone, not caring about getting a drink or clearing his head. His mind was on the hunt and struggling to process what had just happened. He wasn't normally one for getting into fights, his father had taught him to only use his training to defend himself, never to use it to hurt someone and Sam knew how close he had come to hurting Brooster.

He dialled his father's cell phone and waited.

"John Winchester," came the hushed voice of his father.

"Dad?" Sam asked, feeling agitated but unable to hide his surprise at his father's hushed tone.. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, Sammy, just fine," John assured him. "Dean's resting, he's got a bit of a headache."

Sam hesitated. He knew Dean hadn't been well earlier that morning, he should have stayed home after all! Dean had suggested it, and Sam hadn't listened…

"Maybe I should come home," Sam told him, anxiety rising in his chest, threatening to explode in spectacular fashion as his stomach began churning with unease.

"No, Sammy, it's okay," John told him. "I have everything under control here, you don't have to worry… okay?"

Sam sighed. He was feeling like crap… he'd thought things were going really well not so long ago, and now, all of a sudden, he felt like his world had been turned upside down and everything was collapsing around him. He couldn't catch his breath, couldn't seem to think straight.

"Okay Dad," he agreed at last. His head was swimming a little and his stomach churned again. "I wanted to give you…"

Sam trailed off. Things were starting to blur, his head was starting to ache.

"Sam?" John called, his voice louder this time. "Sam, talk to me!"

Sam grabbed the side of the phone for balance as his legs threatened to give out from under him. He felt like his heart was racing…

"Dad?" Sam gasped, pain in his chest. "Dad, I… I can't…"

"Sam, what's wrong?" John called out to him.

Sam stumbled from the phone, dropping it as he turned. He looked around him, the world spinning as he took each step. He searched for someone to help him, but he couldn't make out anything more than fuzzy images, blurry colours… sounds around him became deafening… he could hear his breathing coming out in painful gasps, his whole body felt like it was on fire, it felt like his heart was going to explode out his chest…

He felt his head collide with something and then saw nothing but bright lights…

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

John snapped his phone shut and dropped it on the bed, frustration and fear racing through his body as he wondered what had happened to Sam. He had sounded strained but okay, and then his voice had begun to fade and suddenly… suddenly he just wasn't there. John began pacing the room, uncertain as to what he should do. Should he go to the school? Should he call someone? He didn't know who to call or where to start looking for him… he didn't even know what Sam had been calling about!

John felt so useless. He glanced over at Dean to see he was staring up at him.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked, pulling himself to sit up. John could still see the headache was bothering him, but he seemed a little more steady than he had a few hours ago. Maybe he was finally on the mend.

"Nothing, son," John lied. "Get some rest…"

"That's crap," Dean snapped, climbing out of bed carefully. "You were talking to Sam and now you're pacing like your hopped up on espresso… what's wrong?"

John sighed. He should have known Dean was listening in. Nothing much got passed Dean, especially when it concerned his brother.

"I don't know," John admitted. He opened his mouth to say something when his phone rang on the bed behind him. He snatched it up and flipped it open. "Sammy?"

"Mr Winchester, this is Coach Mortimer," a man's voice came through the line, sounding tense and worried. "I have Sam here… I've called an ambulance…"

"We're on our way," John told him, snatching up the keys to the Impala and indicating Dean should grab his boots and jacket. "What happened?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Coach Mortimer told him. "He collapsed…"

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Dean tapped furiously at the dash board as he waited to reach Sam's school. His father was driving and it was one time that he wanted to bark at his father to hurry up. Normally John drove fast enough to satisfy Dean in his least patient mood, but today he was considering ways to create and instant transportation device… his brother had collapsed and he wasn't there with him! Dean had never been more frustrated in his life.

"Could you cool it?" John snapped at him, not taking his eyes off the road as he tried to overtake a truck that was driving way too slow for his liking. "You're driving me nuts!"

"Well, if Grandma would get out of the way and you'd get round that stupid heap, then I might not be tapping right now," Dean snapped back. "I'd be with Sam instead!"

"I want to get to Sam too, Dean, but if we get ourselves killed…"

"That's not the point, Dad," Dean told him. His tone had a warning undercurrent in it and he wondered where he'd gotten that from. Must have been from his father, he decided. "If this thing was dual drive, I swear…"

John sighed and hit his foot on the accelerator, swerving into the other lane and pushing the Impala passed it's limits until he got passed the truck. He didn't bother slowing down until he turned the ten minute drive into seven minutes, pulling up at the school as they saw Sam on a stretcher being rushed toward a waiting ambulance.

"Oh my god," Dean hissed, jumping out of the car and rushing toward his brother. "Sam!"

Sam was conscious, but barely. His eyes were glazed over, his pupils dilated and he was sweating.

"Sam? Can you hear me?" Dean called, reaching for his brother. Sam was shaking even under the blankets he was wrapped in and Dean was panicked. He had never seen his brother like this before… "What's wrong with him?"

"Are you family?" one of the paramedics asked him.

"I'm his brother," Dean answered.

"I'm his father," John announced as he followed along behind Dean.

"What'd he take, son?" the paramedic asked, stepping aside as his partner loaded Sam into the ambulance.

"What?" Dean asked, confused.

"You have to tell me what he's on so we know what we're dealing with," he continued. The man glanced at John. "I know you don't want to get him into trouble, but…"

Dean shook his head.

"No, Sammy doesn't do drugs," Dean insisted, looking at his father. "Dad, I swear, Sammy wouldn't do drugs!"

John nodded.

"I know that," John assured him. "Where are you taking him?"

"Saint Anne's," was the answer. "One of you riding along?"

"I will," Dean announced quickly. He jumped into the back of the ambulance and took a seat as close to his brother as he could, resting his hand on Sam's forehead hoping he would know he wasn't alone. The paramedic had spoken quickly to John before hurrying to the drivers side.

"You've really gotta tell us what he's on," he called to Dean over his shoulder as he hit the siren. "His heart rates dangerously high, his temperature has shot through the roof… he's overdosed on something and if you don't tell us what he's taking he could have a heart attack or something…"

Sirens, Dean thought. Sirens are bad…

"He's not on anything," Dean insisted, shaking his head. He heard the catch in his voice that warned tears were threatening, but his blinked them back. This was scarier than the demon had been… "He's a good kid, he wouldn't…"

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

"Sir, I'm sorry, but it's clear to me that you're sons taken something…" 

John refused to believe it as he headed straight for the Impala to follow the ambulance to the hospital. His son, his little boy, would never do drugs! With all the scary shit they faced in their lives, drugs would be the furthest thing from his mind! He knew he had to be alert at all times, that he had to keep his mind active… he knew there had to be more to this than drugs.

In the Winchester life, drugs didn't make sense… Dean's headache and nearly crashing the car… Sammy's collapse… there had to be more going on here than just drugs. Drugs was the answer that normal parents used when their kids collapsed, but not Sam… not his Sammy…

"It's important that we find out what he's taken, we need to know how much damage he's done and what to expect…"

John had given the same answer every time. My son doesn't do drugs, he thought angrily.

"Mr Winchester?" a man, slightly shorter than John but equally as buff, ran over to him. John assumed he was Sam's coach and he pulled the door open. "I know you have to get to the hospital, but I wanted to tell you… Sam's a good kid, but I'm worried about him. He got into a fight a little while ago with a bigger kid and…"

"My boy doesn't fight," John gasped, closing his eyes. "He knows better than that, he could hurt someone…"

"Well, normally I'd be worried about someone hurting Sam but today… he just looked… he looked so… I really thought he was going to take the kids head off," Coach Mortimer sighed finally. "I don't want to think he'd be on drugs, but that sort of aggression, especially when it comes out of nowhere, well… it's a key indicator."

John glared at the man, anger rising in his chest.

"My son doesn't do drug," John growled at him before getting in the car and gunning the engine. The ambulance had a head start and the sirens were going, John didn't have time to sit around talking crap with a coach that thought he knew Sam better than he did.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Dean felt something change in Sam before anyone had even noticed. Sam's body had tensed suddenly and before Dean realised what was happening the paramedic was restraining him.

"He's convulsing!" he called to the driver. "Floor it! We're gonna lose him!"

"Sam?" Dean cried, hoping his brother could hear him.

"I need you to sit back," the paramedic told him as Sam began lashing out at him. "Don't touch him!"

Sam was trying to hit the man, trying to bite him, anything to let him go… and then his body relaxed. There was only a moment of peace, however, as a second convulsion hit the youngest Winchester, worse than the first. Sam's eyes rolled back, his jaw was set awkwardly and his fingers were curling up on themselves at what looked like an awkward angle.

Dean couldn't catch his breath as he watched the paramedic struggling to control the boy as the ambulance raced toward the hospital. Dean's whole world was giving way around him as everything he thought he knew came into question. He knew Sam would never do drugs, and yet he knew that these were some classic symptoms…

The ambulance screeched to a halt outside the emergency room and Dean suddenly found himself running alongside the stretcher as they burst inside.

"What have we got?" a doctor called, matching the paramedics pace.

"Drug overdose," the driver announced, pumping the oxygen mask by hand to regulate Sam's breathing. "Looks like crystal meth…"

Dean tried to follow them through the doors, but an orderly grabbed him and pulled him away.

"You can't go in there," he told Dean.

"That's my brother," Dean yelled, pushing the man away. "I have to be there!"

"You have to trust them to take care of him! Believe me, you wont want to be in there for some of this," the orderly told him, pushing him back out into the waiting room. "The doctor will come out and talk to you in a while, okay?"

Dean stared at the door, his head throbbing and his heart racing. He ran his hands through his hair and pressed them against his temples as he tried to fight to regain the reality he had always known.

This could not be happening…

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

John raced into the emergency room, stopping suddenly when he saw Dean sitting in a seat directly across the doors. He had his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands and he looked so small that John didn't know what to do. Dean's shoulders were shaking and he knew that his older son was crying… he hurried to his side and put his hand on his son's shoulder.

The eyes that looked up at him were red raw from crying and the devastation that John saw filled him with fear.

"Did they say anything?" John asked, sitting beside Dean.

Dean shook his head.

"They think it's crystal meth," Dean whispered, swallowing hard and brushing his tears away. "Based on his symptoms, I guess."

"What symptoms? What's crystal meth?" John asked. He'd never had to worry about drugs with his boys, and now he wished he had.

"Speed," Dean told him gently, looking back at his shaking hands. "Sam's heart rate was through the roof, his temperature was way too high… I don't know how high, but high enough that he started convulsing in the car."

"Jesus," John whispered, hanging his head in his hands in much the same way that Dean had been moments before.

"Speed can cause a lot of problems, Dad…" Dean told him. "I don't know what they're doing in there, but…"

"Winchester?" a voice called. John and Dean shot to their feet and met the doctor as he headed toward them. "I'm Doctor Hargitay, I'm treating Sam along with Doctor Thomas who is still back there with the team…"

"How is he?" John asked, not sure he wanted to hear the answer.

"We've got him stabilised, his heart rates still too high and his temperature is up too, but we're working on that," Hargitay told him. "It looks like he's taken crystal meth… does he have any heart conditions we should know about?"

John shook his head.

"He's always been really healthy," Dean added.

"Well, that's something at least," Hargitay said. "His blood pressure is up and we've had to restrain him…"

"Restrain him?" John asked. "What for?"

"Speed can make a patient violent, Mr Winchester, and from what we've been told by the paramedics your son certainly qualifies," he explained. "He got violent in the ambulance, and got into a fight with one of his fellow students and a teacher… we have to protect ourselves, but it's mostly to stop Sam from hurting himself."

"Sam wouldn't take drugs," Dean snapped, walking away a moment to regain his composure while he fought to understand what was going on. John wondered if Dean had heard anything else the doctor had said, but he was sure he had.

"The biggest thing we're worried about is that speed can cause a heart attack, stroke or even a coma… we're moving him to a room in a couple of hours, but we still have some work to do," Hargitay explained. "I'm sorry I can't tell you more, but I really have to get back to your son…"

John nodded and watched the doctor walk away.

"Did he say heart attack?" Dean gasped, looking at John with wide eyes.

"He said there's a risk of heart attack, stroke or coma, but so far Sam's okay," John assured him. "Dean, I need you to relax, okay? I have to ask you…"

Dean sat on the chair again, looking drained of all strength as John stood beside him.

"Is it possible that Sam would have taken something?" John asked him. He thought he knew his boys, but he knew that he didn't know either of them as well as they knew each other. He was proud of the bond they shared, and also a little jealous that he didn't get to be a part of it. He always had to be training them and teaching them, he didn't get the chance to bond with them the way he wanted to.

"No," Dean answered.

"Are you sure?" John asked. "Maybe he was rebelling? Or maybe it was because he was up all the time researching with us and then had to go to school? He's been training hard to, I mean… is it possible?"

Dean shook his head again.

"No way in hell, Dad," Dean insisted, getting to his feet angrily and approaching his father as if he were ready to fight anyone that would accuse his brother of taking drugs. "Sammy wouldn't do that, it's just not who he is!"

"Okay, Dean," John assured him gently. "I had to ask…"

"Besides, there's no way I could have missed that," Dean added. "No way he could have gotten it passed me… he wouldn't…"

"Okay, son," John nodded, pulling Dean into his arms and holding him tight, pressing Dean's head gently against his shoulder and squeezing the back of his neck reassuringly. "We'll sort this out, it'll be okay…"

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

It was several hours later when John and Dean were finally allowed to see Sam. Dean was alarmed to walk in and find Sam with restraints around his arms and legs, and clearly sedated as he lay still against the pillows. He had an oxygen mask on as well, but Dean could tell his breathing had evened out and the heart monitor showed that his heart rate was lower – though still up from where it should be.

Dean hated to see Sam like that, particularly in restraints. Sam would hate that, he knew. He'd hate being unable to move, unable to control his own body… that's one of the reasons he knew Sam wouldn't take drugs. He was so conscious of being able to take care of himself and part of that depended on being able to control himself. He didn't see the point in drinking, partying and doing drugs because it slowed the reflexes and dulled response time… no way Sam would risk that, especially not with this hunt hanging over their heads.

"Dad," Dean whispered, looking up at his father and taking his little brother's hand in his at the same time. He closed his eyes, wishing that everything would just go away and their lives could be normal again. "How could this have happened? Sam wouldn't take drugs…"

John nodded.

"I wondered if this… thing from last night had something to do with it," he sighed, looking down at Sam. "I mean, first your headache and now this… you two are the ones who came up against it and you're the only ones showing any symptoms."

"Yeah, it's weird, but come on… a headache versus all this?" Dean exclaimed, indicating the room and the machines that were monitoring Sam. "There's something not right here, Dad… but it cant be that de… that thing… why would it give me a headache and do all this to Sam? And how could it?"

John shrugged.

"It was just a theory," he admitted. "I think Sam was calling me to tell me something, and now… well, I don't know what it was… I wonder if I'll ever find out."

"What?!" Dean snapped, glaring at his father. "Of course you will! Sam will tell just as soon as he wakes up!"

"Dean…"

"What the hell are you saying?" Dean asked, fire burning in his chest. "You don't think he'll wake up? Is that it? You think he's going to die?"

"Dean, that's not what I mean," John interrupted him quickly. "I'm sorry, I just meant that I called Joshua and told him to get down here. We're not hunting that thing with Sam in this condition, he needs at least a week the doctor said and then we'll see… meanwhile someone has to be out there on damage control. I meant that I might never find out because we've got so much else going on…"

Dean glared at his father but swallowed his anger and looked down at Sam.

"You're going to be fine, little brother," Dean told him. "You have to be…"

**To Be Continued...**

**A/N - Well, this is an unusual turn for the Winchester's, but read on to find out what it all means!!! **


	3. Chapter 3

A/N – So, honestly I was worried about the drug overdose but I shoulda known that SPN fans will take whatever angst and mystery they can get! Lol Thanks heaps for the reviews and the encouragement so far, it's been really great!!! And everything in this story has a purpose…

Disclaimer: As usual, not mine… not feeling particularly witty, so that's it. Saving my energy for the story ahead…

**Chapter Three**

**Once Upon A Rude Awakening**

Dean watched his little brother sleeping restlessly for a whole night and a good part of the morning, wishing he could do something to make him feel better. The doctors checked on him, sedated him once more before John put his foot down and said he wouldn't allow anymore sedation until Sam woke up and he could be sure it was necessary. The nurses were keeping a close eye on his blood pressure and temperature, coming and going every ten minutes. Yet no one had told them anything else, they hadn't explained anything more, had just remained quiet. Dean felt like they were hiding something, but he wasn't sure what it was…

Finally, Doctor Hargitay walked into the room with a grim look on his face.

"Mr Winchester, I'd like to speak to you outside if I may?" he requested, glancing at Dean briefly.

"No, but you can talk to me here," John told him. "We have no secrets in this family."

Hargitay hesitated.

"Sir, considering you weren't aware your fourteen year old son was taking drugs, I'm not sure that's quite true," Hargitay told him. Dean could see anger reddening his father's eyes and wondered what kind of death wish this doctor had, but he remained quiet. "I need to discuss with you the bruises on your son's back… do you know anything about that?"

John tensed.

"Bruises?" John asked, not really stating a question rather questioning the doctors unspoken suggestion. "What are you trying to say?"

Sam shifted in bed, moaning quietly.

"It looks like he's sustained a… well, a beating if I must be honest," Hargitay told him. "Now, normally I would have to report this already, but given the situation I figured it was better to wait until the patient was stable and see what we can find out. I have to say, it looks like there's some kind of abuse in your home sir… whether you realise it or not."

Hargitay was looking at Dean again. Dean's eyes widened as he realised what the doctor was suggesting. Not only was John a suspect, but Dean was too! And he seemed to be number one on the doctor's list!

"What the hell…"

"Dean," John interrupted, shooting Dean a look that was clearly an order to sit down and shut up. "My son would never hurt his brother, and neither would I… I don't appreciate you coming in here and…"

"My fault," Sam murmured, catching everyone's attention. "It was my fault…"

"Sssh, Sammy," Dean hushed, brushing the hair out of Sam's eyes gently. "You don't have to talk…"

"I fell, I was being stupid and I fell," Sam continued, his eyes not quite focussed as he searched out the person attached to the accusing voice that had woken him. "I landed on a log… or something… it's my fault."

Hargitay nodded, clearly not happy with the answer but willing to accept that whatever stupidity the drugged up fourteen year old boy he saw before him it had, indeed, been his fault.

Hargitay checked Sam's blood pressure and other vitals before looking up at John.

"He's okay," he assured them. "Not out of the woods yet, we have to monitor him for a little while longer and then the drugs still have to work their way out of his system, but it looks like he dodged a bullet here."

"Dean?" Sam whispered, looking for his brother. Dean saw as he tried to reach his hand out to his brother only to discover that he couldn't move. Panic in his eyes, Sam struggled frantically against the bonds that held him to the bed, gasping for breath.

Hargitay pulled over a tray and got a syringe.

"I'm afraid we're going to have to sedate him again," he announced as Sam's panic rose and his movements became more frantic.

Dean pushed passed the doctor and grabbed his brother's hand, resting the other one on Sam's forehead again.

"Sam?" Dean spoked firmly but gently. "Can you hear me? I'm right here, can you feel my hand? I'm holding your hand right now, but I need you to calm down, okay? Everything's going to be okay…"

"Please step aside," Hargitay requested.

"He's not violent," John snapped as Dean continued to sooth his brother. Sam was slowly beginning to relax but the panic remained in his eyes. "He's just scared, that's all… he's in restraints, for crying out loud! He's only a kid, what do you expect?"

Hargitay hesitated.

"I can't force treatment on your son, Mr Winchester, but I can tell you what is best for him and I believe that right now it might be better for him to be sedated. Given the fact that he'll go into withdrawals soon anyway, it might be better…"

"No," John growled. "My son is staying with us, and that means conscious and everything… we're here with him, and that's all he needs… no more drugs, understand me?"

Hargitay nodded and left the room.

"Call me if you change your mind," he tossed over his shoulder.

Once the doctor was gone, John took hold of Sam's other hand and squeezed it gently.

"How you doing, kiddo?" he asked, smiling down at Sam.

Sam's eyes shifted to his father as tears welled up in them.

"What's going on?" Sam asked tearfully. "Why am I here?"

"You don't remember what happened?" John asked. Sam shook his head. "Do you remember talking to me on the phone? Or getting into a fight after class?"

"No," Sam admitted, swallowing hard.

Dean sighed.

"It's okay, Sam," he assured his little brother. "We don't know exactly what happened, but we're going to figure it out, okay? Did you do anything unusual yesterday?"

"Yesterday?" Sam asked.

"It's Wednesday, Sam…"

John glanced at Dean.

"No, it's Tuesday," he corrected. Dean was confused again. How did he lose another day? What happened? "You went to school yesterday and you had gym… did anything happen?"

"Sam, they think you took speed," Dean explained carefully, not wanting to upset his brother. "Did you?"

Sam shook his head, clearly trying to remember.

"No! Nothing happened! I broke the record in track," he answered softly, tugging again at his restraints. "I don't like this, Dad, please make them take it off!"

John sighed and glanced at Dean. Dean immediately grabbed onto the restraints on his side of the bed and removed them, from both his arm and leg as his father followed his example. The minute the restraints were off, Sam launched himself at his brother and held on tight.

"I didn't take anything, Dean, I promise!" Sam said, his voice muffled into Dean's shirt. Dean wrapped his arms around his brother and hugged him back before pressing him back against his pillows to rest. "I wouldn't do that, I would never take drugs!"

Dean nodded.

"I know you wouldn't, little brother," Dean assured him. "There's only one other thing I can think of… someone gave them to you without you knowing it."

"Or the demon," John added.

"Dad, no," Dean assured him. "It makes no sense. This is just a coincidence. I just have a headache and someone drugged Sam, they're not related."

"Since when do you believe in coincidences?" John asked.

Sam had been silent longer than Dean had realised and when he turned to check on him he saw a serious look on his face… serious and angry.

"Sammy?"

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

He couldn't have, Sam thought. Why would he do something like that? Why would anyone do something like that?

Sam considered the day as much as he remembered and there was only one thing that struck him as unusual. He had thought it was nice at the time, but the more he considered it the more he realised he'd felt strange afterwards… dry mouth, slight headache… things just weren't right…

Sam hated that someone would do this to him, he was angry beyond anything he'd ever felt before. He was fourteen! He had never had a drink, never had a cigarette and had always refused to take drugs! He tried to avoid pain killers if he could, he didn't want anything compromising his ability to fight and to control himself, he didn't want to risk dependency to anything and he didn't want a reputation for taking drugs! He had always been a good kid, and top student and he wanted to stay that way… but this bastard had taken that away from him and it would end up on his record. Everywhere he went they'd think he did drugs!

"Sammy?" Dean tried again, getting Sam's attention this time. "You know something?"

"Maybe," Sam told him, reaching a hand up to rub his eyes. His hand was shaking, he realised. Great, bet that has something to do with all this too. He felt himself growing really angry and tried to swallow it. He wasn't going to let anything else take control of his body, he would fight every symptom the drug tried to force upon him no matter what! "There was a kid… Brooster… he gave me a bottle of water."

"You drank it?" John asked.

"Well, I didn't know it was drugged," Sam snapped. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes a moment. "Sorry… I just meant that, well, we're on the same team so I didn't think anything of it. I figured he was just being nice or something."

"Brooster," Dean muttered, his eyes flashing.

"It was just after that that I remember feeling a bit strange but…" Sam trailed off.

"But what?" Dean prompted. "Sam?"

"I don't really remember anything else," Sam sighed. "I don't remember fighting anyone, I don't remember calling dad… I just… I remember feeling strange and then I woke up and it's Wednesday."

"Tuesday," John corrected again, frowning.

"Whatever day it is, it isn't the same damn day that I woke up last," Sam snapped at his father. He clenched his teeth together, reminding himself to be calm and relax, he didn't want to upset his father, he didn't want to do anything to upset anyone. He'd been enough of a burden already, he didn't want to hurt his father or Dean anymore. "I'm sorry…"

"It's okay, Sam," John assured him. "I understand."

"You understand?" Sam asked, glancing at his father. "You ever have this done to you?"

"Well, no…"

"Then how would you know what you're talking about?" Sam rolled over, closing his eyes and burying his face in his pillow. "This is stupid, it's all my fault!"

"Sam, no!" John disagreed. "You didn't take the drugs willingly, none of this is your fault… you just need to fight it and we're going to be here every step of the way, okay?"

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Dean saw the tell-tale signs of withdrawal already beginning to assault his brother's body and it felt like it was going to crush his chest. Sam was agitated, his hands were shaking… Dean knew it would get worse and he wished his father had let the doctor sedate him to get through it. He knew Sam was strong enough to fight his way through, but Dean didn't think he should have to! That punk Brooster should be the one to do that, not Sam…

This was going to be a long night…

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Five days later 

Sam had been home two days now, and he was slowly beginning to look more like himself. He had been released from the hospital before the doctor had wanted, but John had argued that Sam would recover quicker at home since he was no longer in any danger of heart attacks or anything else. His blood pressure and heart rate were normal, his temperature was normal and the worst of the symptoms had eased off. Doctor Thomas had arrange the discharge and given them some literature about drug rehabilitation that went straight in the bin at the hospital and Dean had ridden in the back with Sam on their way back to the motel.

The minute they walked in the door, Sam had hit the research again. He was up late most nights, unable to sleep and instead concentrated on finding out as much about the demon as he could until he fell asleep. Dean knew that the lack of sleep was part of the withdrawal, but on the fifth night he realised there was more to it than that. The withdrawal was past, for the most part, this was purely Sam…

"You okay?" he asked his brother gently.

Sam merely nodded but didn't say anything. He hadn't spoken much since being released from hospital, he had tried to avoid looking anyone in the eye – especially Dean. Dean didn't know what he had done to make Sam want to avoid him above everyone else, but he didn't want to push him if he wasn't ready. Still, it hurt Dean that Sam didn't talk to him or look at him, and it had been days. Ever since waking up in the hospital and clinging to him as he pleaded with Dean to believe that he hadn't taken drugs… and since that day he would barely look at him. He refused to be away from Dean, not that Sam had made a point of saying it but it hadn't gone under Dean's radar that he stayed close by. That didn't bother Dean, he wasn't ready to let Sam disappear from view either. He was worried about Sam returning to school, but there was a meeting lined up for the following day to speak with the headmaster, and Dean intended to be there for it… the kid Sam said had given him the water would be there, and Dean had something up his sleeve.

No one messes with my little brother and gets away with it, Dean thought.

"I'm fine," Sam muttered, not looking up from the book he was going over.

"You tired? Maybe you should get some rest," Dean suggested, squatting beside Sam's chair.

"No, I'm fine…"

"You've barely slept since you got home, Sam," Dean told him. "You need to get some rest, you've been through a lot, it's a big strain on your body when you go through withdrawal and stuff."

Sam leaned closer to his book and wrote quicker, the only thing he could do to indicate he wasn't listening. Dean wasn't down, however, he was worried about Sam and he was going to get him to get some rest.

"Sam, take a break, you've been going almost non-stop!"

"Dean, leave me alone!" Sam snapped, glancing in Dean's direction while still managing to avoid actual eye contact. "I don't want to talk, I'm not tired, and I have a lot of work to do… okay?"

Dean got to his feet and sighed. It wasn't okay, not by a long shot, but he would let it drop. Eventually, though, they were going to have to talk about this stuff. Sam had forgotten that, for everything he'd been through, Dean and their father had been there too and they didn't deserve to take the brunt of he fallout. They would bare it as much as he needed them to, but eventually he was going to have to forgive them for whatever he felt they had done… or at least explain it to them, because thinking about it was giving Dean a headache.

And he'd been having enough headaches without Sam adding to them.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

John and Joshua were sitting on the porch with a couple of beers and going over what John knew of the hunt so far, what little information the boys had gathered on their failed attempt at taking the thing out, and what Joshua had found in the passed few days while Sam was in hospital. Sam had spoken to John once voluntarily when he asked his father to promise not to tell Joshua anything about why he was in hospital, but it had been too late for John to make that promise and the look of pain in Sam's eyes had left him wounded. Whatever Sam's reasons, he didn't want Joshua to know what had happened and now he was left unable to face the man. He hadn't looked at or spoken to Joshua once, and John knew that Joshua was confused and hurt because of it.

"So, any idea where we go next?" Joshua was asking John. He snapped back to the present and tried to refocus on the conversation, but he'd missed the comments before so he sighed and decided to just go from what he knew.

"Sorry, I'm a bit distracted," John admitted, sighing deeply. "All I know is that Sam was trying to tell me something before all this started and now he wont talk to me… he mumbles at me when I ask him if he's okay, and he knows we're not hunting this thing again just yet, but…"

John shook his head and took a long swig of beer.

"But what?" Joshua prompted gently.

"I don't know if we can hunt this thing if we can't pull Sam out of whatever it is that's bothering him," John told him. "I can't leave him here, but he's still researching and that means he's eventually going to have to talk to us… and if he's going to stay shutdown like this then I really can't go on the hunt and I can't take him with us… he's not up to it, he's not ready."

"He'll be fine," a voice approached them from the now-open doorway. John looked up to see Dean standing with the light behind him, and an unhappy look on his face. He stepped out on the porch and pulled the door shut, grabbing a beer before settling on another seat. "I'll get through to him, Dad, don't worry."

"I don't know, Dean, I've seen him upset before but this is different… I've never seen him like this…" John shook his head. "I don't even know where to begin with something like this. I never worried about drugs with either of you boys, and even if I had I wouldn't have been able to see this coming a mile off!"

"Maybe you should have worried about drugs a little more," Dean muttered. He drank deeply from his beer before swallowing hard and fiddling with the label on the bottle. "Sam is going to be fine, he's going to be Sam again and everything will be back to normal… I will figure this out."

"I know you will," John lied. He hoped it was the truth, but right now everything in him was screaming in fear that they had lost their Sam even though the doctors had saved him. None of this was fair. "Any idea what he's dug up?"

Dean shook his head and John knew he was clueless.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Sam could hear the others talking outside as he stood by the partially opened window. He knew his father had lost faith in him, blamed him for what had happened… and Dean wasn't disagreeing, which hurt just as much. Joshua hadn't said anything about it, but it was clear to Sam that he held Sam responsible for not finishing the hunt already… and Sam had seen the front page of the paper earlier that morning. Two more people had been killed, and it was Sam's fault… if he hadn't gotten himself sick like that, the hunt would be over, the thing would be dead, and those two people would be alive.

A drug overdose for most people only hurt the person taking the drugs and the people left to love them… Sam's overdose was costing more people their lives than seemed fair.

His family should be out there hunting the thing and putting a stop to its killing spree… Sam had to figure out what it was, and fast!

As Sam faced his desk again, however, something he had read fell into place…

"Oh my God!" Sam muttered, stumbling back to the book lying open on the desk and flipping through a few more pages. He found the passage he was after and paled as he read it. He'd figured it out, he knew what they were facing… and it was worse than he realised. He stumbled backwards as if the creature was going to leap out at him from the page and knocked his chair over. The door swung open behind him and he turned to face the concerned faces of his father, brother and Joshua.

"Sam?" John gasped, seeing Sam's pale face. "You okay?"

For the first time in days, Sam looked his father in the eye.

"I think we have a problem," he announced. He sat down on the nearest bed and took a deep breath. He still avoided looking at Dean and Joshua, but his father was the leader of the hunt and he made himself look at him – and made himself ignore what he saw there. "This creature is a time of Distortion Demon… I'm not sure which one it is, but they all have three things in common… one, they're afraid of fire, it repels them but only for a while and they come back stronger… two, they're all mean, fast and shadow-like, making them nearly impossible to fight…"

"And three?" John asked, patiently.

"They're all controlled by humans," Sam told him, trailing off to allow his words to sink in. All these deaths, every one of them, though supernatural in nature originated from the evil underbelly of mankind. Hunts were always more complicated when people were involved, and it always raised other issues. Why were these people killing? Why use this demon to do it? And what the hell were they going to do when they found them?

"Shit," Dean breathed, looking up at his father. "Dad?"

John shook his head.

"It doesn't change anything," he insisted. He turned to Sam. "Anything in those books of yours to say how to kill them?"

Sam shook his head.

"Not without knowing which one it is," he answered. "And they're virtually indistinguishable… they all kill differently, but… I don't know, there's just nothing I've seen or heard that'll tell us enough to figure that out."

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

The following morning, Joshua stayed behind to continue the research, hunting through newspapers and books trying to find anything that would tell them what Distortion Demon they were dealing with. John, Dean and Sam went to Sam's school to meet with the headmaster and Brooster about what had happened. Dean could see that Sam was nervous, but he didn't press the issue. He'd learned recently that Sam shutdown more than ever if you pressed him too hard and he really didn't want to talk. A quiet Sam wasn't good, though. Sam had always been willing to talk about things, and when Sam was suppressing something Dean knew it meant it was worse than he realised.

And Sam still wasn't talking to him much, so Dean knew that whatever he'd done to upset him, Sam was still really pissed.

They arrived right on time, as the first classes of the day started. They were let into the headmasters office immediately, being told that Brooster and his father were already inside waiting for them. John set his shoulders, ready for anything and Dean stood directly behind Sam prepared to offer him whatever support he could to make the meeting easier.

Sam told what little he knew of the situation, what little he remembered, and Brooster told of a viscous and seemingly unprovoked attack after gym class that made John turn so red he was almost purple. After that the headmaster asked the boys to leave while the adults discussed what should be done… and John nodded to Dean to follow Sam. Dean had every intention of following him anyway, he wasn't letting him out of his sight with that little shit around, no way!

Dean held back, however, letting Sam and Brooster get a head start. He watched as Brooster said something to Sam and Sam tried to ignore him. He started to walk away, but Brooster wasn't going to allow him that freedom and started following him again. Sam looked worried and Dean wondered what it was that was actually bothering him, since they all knew that Sam could take him down in a heartbeat… and that's when Dean realised that that's what was worrying him! Although Sam didn't remember doing it, he had taken his training and used it to hurt another person, someone who wasn't a demon – and asshole, sure, but a demon… no. Sam, the gentlest person Dean had ever known, was killing himself over the thought of hurting another person.

Dean kicked himself… he should have known. This whole thing had thrown him so much that he had missed what should have been completely obvious… and another sudden realisation washed over him.

Sam wasn't mad at Dean, he was ashamed of himself!

Dean reached into his pack that carried a few simple things… books for Sam in case he decided to stay at school, some food for him too, and a bottle of water specially prepared.

"You okay there, Sam?" Dean called, quickening his step toward his little brother.

Sam halted and nodded his head, refusing to look at Dean.

"This little shit giving you a hard time?" Dean prompted, glaring at Brooster… whose real name, he had discovered at the meeting, was Clarence. "You know you can deal with a pissant like him in a heartbeat…"

Sam gaped at him.

"You can't talk to me like that!" Brooster told him angrily.

"I'm not talking to you, Clarence," Dean told him. "I'm conversing with my brother… you don't like what we're talking about, you don't have to listen!"

Dean unscrewed the cap of the bottle and raised it to his lips, pausing before he took a sip.

"Oh, sorry, that's so rude!" Dean told Brooster, stepping toward him. "You know, my mom did raise me better than that… here, want a drink?"

Brooster backed up quickly, shaking his head.

"You sure?" Dean asked, holding the drink out. "I know you'll like it, it's the same sorta thing you gave to my brother… makes you feel like superman!"

Brooster was pressed against the wall now, holding his head as far away from the bottle as he could.

"Come on, Clarence… you're, what? Fifteen? Be a man and take a swig!" Dean told him, shoving the bottle so far into the boys mouth that it nearly went up his nose. Brooster choked on the water before Dean finally let him go, allowing the water to spill down the boys front. He screwed the cap on and tossed him the bottle, watching as the bully began to splutter and gag. "What's the matter? Too salty?"

"You tried to kill me!" Brooster whined pathetically, letting the bottle fall to the ground.

"No, kid, that's what you tried to do to my brother," Dean told him, his voice low and dangerous. "You ever go near him again and I can't guarantee that it'll be salt water next time…"

"HEY!" a voice called out, catching Dean's attention. He looked up to see an older boy about his own age racing toward them. "What are you doing to Clarrie?"

Dean laughed.

"Clarrie?" he scoffed. "You mean the little bastard that nearly got my brother killed?"

"Whatever, man, you leave him alone! He didn't do nothin' wrong!"

"So you think that lacing water with Crystal Meth is okay? That it wouldn't have mattered if Sam had had a heart attack?" Dean snapped, stepping closer to the man before him. He must be the captain of the football team, Dean thought. He was certainly built like it… but he didn't know who he was taking on.

"My brother isn't the one busted for drugs, man, you're just pissed coz you're little shit for brains brother od'd and now he's trying to blame Clarrie for it!"

"Yeah, Jonesy, that's what happened!" Brooster agreed, his voice his and whiny. "He made me drink salt water, too!"

"Shut up, Clarrie," Jonesy warned him. "You owe my brother an apology."

"Oh, eat me," Dean spat, sick of this whole family. "My brother has never and will never touch drugs, but you're brother's enough of a dumb ass to have done this all by himself… I can tell that he's not from the lowest end of your particular gene pool…"

Jonesy took a swing at Dean's face but Dean ducked, grabbed his arm and twisted behind the football stars back, ramming him against the wall so hard he let out a pained puff of air.

"You or your little weasel of a brother EVER come near Sam again, and I'm going to have a lot more to say," Dean warned. "You watch that little shit, Jonesy… my brother's a good kid, he'd never hurt a soul and he'd never touch drugs… that was all Clarrie's fault, and if he ever tries it again…"

Dean trailed off, letting the silence become the warning, and let go of Jonesy. The older boy grabbed his little brother and they scurried off to find their father. Dean turned to Sam to see him gazing at him with wide eyes filled with fear and confusion.

"You okay, Sammy?" Dean asked him, rubbing his temple as another headache threatened to take over.

Sam nodded.

"You wanna come home?" Dean continued.

Sam nodded.

Dean led Sam in the direction of the Impala, thinking of nothing more than a desperate need for more aspirin and hoping that he'd remembered to pick some up earlier in the day.

"Dean?" Sam piped up, looking up at his brother – but only just since his latest growth spurt had left him almost as tall as Dean.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks," Sam smiled, before ducking his head and eyes away again.

Dean grinned. It hadn't been much, but it had been a start… maybe Sam would realise he'd done nothing wrong and maybe seeing Brooster getting a taste of his own medicine would make him feel a bit better about things… and if nothing else, Dean had see his brother's eyes and heard his voice for the first time in almost a week.

It had been well worth it.

**TO BE CONTINUED…**

**A/N – Don't worry, I haven't forgotten that John's in the office with the headmaster!**


	4. Chapter 4

Teaser: We haven't seen the last of the Brooster…

Charli: Wow, thanks for the great review!!! I'm glad that you're liking this story, and if your review is anything to go by you're going to like what's coming! LoL And I'm glad to be able to brighten up a cloudy, gloomy England day for you…

A/N – To all those who have reviewed so far, thank you heaps!!! I woke up feel a bit down and hormonal this morning – all those wonderful pregnancy emotions we get to enjoy as well as everything else – and then I check my email and… wow! 44 emails! And all of them bar 4 were reviews or alerts or favs!!! I'm just beaming ear to ear right now, thank you heaps for cheering me up!!!

Disclaimer: As usual, not mine… not feeling particularly witty, so that's it. Saving my energy for the story ahead…

**Chapter Four**

**Papa Bear, the Uber Dad**

"Why don't we start by discussing what we think should happen here," Headmaster Johnston suggested, lacing his fingers on the desk in front of him. John clenched his jaw, this guy already getting on his nerves. He was preppy and a real 'pretty boy' type with slicked back hair and a three piece suit. It made John want to grab him by the paisley tie and strangle him. "I'm sure we can come to some sort of agreement on what we should do with these boys…"

"Well," John began, forcing himself to calm down. "First of all I think that punk should be expelled and this should go on his permanent record."

"What? I don't think that's entirely fair given that there's no actual proof that Clarence did anything wrong," Mr Brooster complained, his tone stern. "If anyone should be expelled it's that shit kid, Winchester! He's the one caught out doing drugs!"

"What did you just call my son?" John asked, glaring at the man in the chair beside him. "You know, I've put people in their place for a lot less, mister, and you speak out of line about my boy again…"

"Mr Winchester, let's try and keep this civil, shall we?" Johnston suggested, holding his hands up to keep the peace. "First of all, Clarence is one of our budding athletes, he's won most of our medals in track…"

"Until now," John muttered.

"And I don't think we should automatically condemn one of the school's best athletes for a childhood indiscretion," Johnston continued as if John hadn't spoken. "I think we can get away without marking the record of our future football captain."

"He's a bit young to be saying he's gonna be football captain, don't you think?" John asked. He couldn't help but notice Mr Brooster grinning beside him. "I mean, it's entirely possible that someone will come along whose better than him, and you can't let him get away with something like this just because he MIGHT become the captain of the football team! Kids need to be taught a lesson! They need to know the difference between right and wrong, and Clarence clearly has some gaps in that particular area… and what the hell are you talking about, a childhood indiscretion? He nearly killed my son!"

"Oh, please, Mr Winchester, let's cut the dramatics," Mr Brooster suggested, buffing his nails on his suit jacket. "For starters, Clarence will be the captain of the football team… Jonesy is, and I was before him… it's in our blood."

"I'm guessing that's not all that's in your kids blood, maybe he should be tested for drugs huh?" John suggested. "Maybe the whole family should be tested…"

"And as for your boy nearly dying, that's a tad dramatic, don't you think? And there's no evidence that Clarence was even involved!" Mr Brooster added, again ignoring John. "I think you've forgotten that it was MY boy being beaten in gym… if Coach Mortimer hadn't been there, your son could well have killed Clarence."

John glared at the man again before turning his attention to Johnston.

"You can't seriously be telling me that you buy into this crap?" John asked. "My son nearly died! He could have had a heart attack with what this kid did to him! Clarence deliberately spike Sam's drink, and with no regard as to how much he gave him, either! He didn't care if Sam lived or died, or what damage he did in the…"

"Mr Winchester, I am well aware of the facts in this case," Johnston interrupted. John was fuming, if these people kept interrupting him, he was going to start getting really angry... if it wasn't bad enough his little boy was suffering because of this stupid kid, these men wanted to cover it up and act as if Clarence Brooster was the all round angel people thought he was!

"I respectfully disagree," John snapped. "You have no idea what you're talking about. You don't know the first thing about Sam, and if you did you would no that he doesn't do drugs, that he would never even consider it! This boy, this star of yours is not what you think. He's a bully and he's a dangerous boy with access to some dangerous drugs, and if he's not stopped then next time someone threatens his title he'll just kill him! You're so busy protecting him and this school that you don't care what happens to my son!"

"Mr Winchester, while I understand how hard it must be for you to accept that your son has a problem, it doesn't seem fair for you to be spreading viscous lies about Clarence," Mr Brooster told him, his voice annoyingly calm. "My son has done nothing wrong, here, and it isn't right that you try to ruin his reputation just so you don't have to face up to the problems within your own family."

"You…"

"Mr Winchester, Mr Brooster, there is only one course of action to be taken here," Johnston announced, stopping John again. "For starters, I think that both the boys are fine athletes, and I can see that this isn't going to be a popular decision to make, but given that I'm the only one in this room who is thinking rationally and impartially about the situation, I'm going to have to make a command decision."

John laughed. This asshole wouldn't know the meaning of a command decision, he thought. Before Johnston continued, John saw something outside the window that caught his attention and he had to force himself not to laugh outside and cheer his eldest son on as he forced Brooster to have a taste of his own medicine… John forced himself to tune into the conversation at hand all the while wishing he could be outside to get a better view of justice.

Dean clearly had the right idea.

"Sam Winchester is hereby suspended for two weeks," Johnston announced. "He will face a months detention upon his return from that suspension, and I'm afraid he's going to have to leave the track meet scheduled for next month…"

"WHAT?!" John yelled, getting to his feet. "My son is the victim here!"

"Your son was caught doing drugs, Mr Winchester, and this school has a policy of zero tolerance," Johnston told him calmly. "I can't let your son get away with doing drugs when boys like Clarence Brooster are doing the right thing and trying to get by honestly."

"The right thing?" John asked, his voice rising dangerously. "Trying to kill my son is the right thing? What the hell kind of school is this?"

"Mr Winchester, I'm going to have to ask you to keep your voice down and take your seat," Johnston told him. "I will not have you making a scene and making poor Clarence's life any harder than it is since he's been accused of this terrible situation…"

"Poor Clarence? You're kidding me right?" John straightened and began pacing toward the door and then back to the desk.

Toward the door.

Back to the desk.

He pointed an angry finger at Johnston, wishing he could just…

"Does anybody even care that a good kid like Sam nearly died? That HIS reputation is shot? Does anyone give a SHIT what he's going through?" John yelled, giving up on controlling his anger. "Everyone should know what happened here! They should know what that kid did to Sam!!! I want my son's name cleared!"

"Mr Winchester, please lower your voice," Johnston insisted, getting to his feet.

John shook his head and stormed out of the room. His son's weren't around, but he thought that might actually be a good thing given what he had decided to do. He started banging on the doors of each classroom he came across, interrupting everyone until people started leaving classrooms to see what was going on.

"My son is Sam Winchester, and he's fresh out of hospital!" John yelled as he moved around the courtyard. "He nearly died because some prick, Clarence Brooster, spiked his water with speed!!!"

"You bastard," Mr Brooster yelled, running to grab John by the jacket and shaking him. "This isn't right, Winchester!"

"Is it right that Sam is being suspended and kicked out of the track meet because your son doesn't like to be second best?" John asked, freeing himself from he man's grip and pushing him away. "He could have died, Brooster! And all this school cares about is covering it's ass! While my son is hung out to dry, they're already giving Clarence the thumbs up to become captain of the football team!"

Mr Brooster took a swing at John, but John ducked and drove his fist into the man's abdomen so hard he doubled over and dropped to his knees.

"I just thought you should all know what kind of a school you go to," John continued. "And don't ever accept a drink from that kid!"

John pointed at Clarence Brooster as he peeked around the corner.

"It just might be what kills you," John added.

"Mr Winchester, this is not how to deal with this situation," Johnston told him. "You are going to have to leave the premises before I call the police."

"Oh, don't worry, I wont be back," John assured him. "And neither will Sam… I wouldn't want him in a school that rewards the bastard for doing the wrong thing and destroying someone's life and then suspends the victim…"

John turned on his heel and walked away.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

"It doesn't look like Dad liked the way the meeting went," Sam announced, leaning forward in the back seat and peering out the window. John was banging on doors and causing a scene, but Sam only half wished that he could have been there. He knew his father was probably defending him, but he didn't want to hear it… his father held Sam responsible for the awaiting hunt, and he couldn't blame him. People are getting hurt because of me, Sam though sadly. When Dean didn't respond, Sam turned to face him. "You okay?"

Dean's eyes were closed and pain was etched into his face. He was pale and seemed to be trembling slightly… a very different Dean than the one who had not long ago punished the boy who had put Sam in hospital. This Dean had Sam worried… extremely worried.

"Dean?" Sam tried again, reaching out and touching his brother's arm. It felt hot, even through Dean's jacket. "Dean?"

"It's okay Sam," Dean assured him, his voice low. "I'm okay… just got a headache."

"You've been getting a lot of those lately," Sam observed.

"Hey, it happens," Dean dismissed. "I'm fine… besides, we gotta hunt on tonight, right?"

Sam nodded.

"I guess so," he agreed. His father had said they'd be hunting tonight, but only after Sam had insisted he was well enough to go. His father had wanted to put it off another few days, but Sam insisted he was okay, and that he didn't want anyone else to get hurt. Still, seeing Dean like this… "Maybe you should stay home tonight?"

Dean's eyes opened at the suggestion.

"If you think for one second I'm gonna let you have all the fun, you got another think coming," Dean told him, his voice surprisingly harsh. "Besides," he tried again. "I gotta keep an eye on that geek brother of mine…"

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

The minute Dean had opened his eyes, he'd regretted it. His vision wasn't just blurry anymore, it was multi-coloured. Blues, pinks, greens and yellows buzzed around him, distorting his brother's face until he looked almost… well, inhuman. He knew his migraines were getting worse but he pushed them aside as best he could. He had to, Sam needed him right now and that was all that mattered… and his father needed him to be there for Sam. Things were so hard and tense right now that Dean didn't have the luxury of getting sick.

He pushed the pain aside and closed his eyes, waiting for the aspirin to kick it. It shouldn't be long now and the pain would be dulled and he'd be able to focus better. He'd be fine for the hunt, he was sure of that. He had to be, he wouldn't let Sam go out there without him, no way in hell! And Sam had already made it perfectly clear that he wouldn't stay at home while the others hunted… Sam had had a look in his eye that suggested this hunt had special meaning for him, like he thought he had to prove himself or something.

Sam didn't have to prove himself to anyone but Sam, Dean knew that… but if his little brother felt he needed this, then he would be right there with him to keep him safe.

"Dean…"

By the sound of Sam's tone, Dean knew he hadn't convinced his brother he'd be okay. He could hear Sam was worried, so he turned in his seat and met his little brother's eyes. For once, Sam held his gaze.

"I'm okay, Sam," he assured him. "I just have a headache. I've had an aspirin, and everything will be okay…"

Sam hesitated and then looked away. Dean saw the fear and doubt cloud over in Sam's eyes first and knew that he was about to shutdown again and fast.

"Sammy?" Dean called, touching his brother's leg to get his attention. Sam didn't face him and Dean knew he'd fallen back into whatever pit he had crawled out of for a moment. "You know none of this your fault, right?"

Sam sighed.

Dean knew that Sam didn't want to talk about it, but he had to give it a shot. Besides, it could help Sam to talk about it and it would take his mind of his worries about Dean… it was a win-win as far as Dean was concerned, but the firm set of his brother's jaw told him he wasn't going to be adding to the conversation any time soon.

"This is not your fault," Dean insisted, pushing a little harder. "No one blames you, Sam. No one thinks any less of you… we all thought we were going to lose you! The doctor's told us that you could die, that your heart could just give out because it was beating so fast and… well, I'll only say this once, little brother… you scared the crap out of me. I don't want to lose you, and for a while there I was really scared."

Tears welled in Sam's eyes and Dean hoped it was because he was believing Dean's words.

"You did nothing wrong, Sam," Dean added. "I hope you realise that. We all know you didn't take the drugs, and we know you never would… there was nothing you could have done, okay? You were drugged because some little shit didn't want to be second best, that's all it was… you're hard to keep up with, Sam. You're strong, you're smart, you're fast… and this guy was jealous and stupid and thought he could get away with taking you out of the competition. You've got big shoes to fill… and I don't mean the ones you put your feet into. This guy was just whacked out… he's the one at fault, he's the one responsible, not you… okay?"

Sam didn't answer, he just turned to face the window and Dean sighed. He wasn't sure if he had gotten through to his brother, but he hoped that something he said would make a difference. The driver's door opened and John climbed in.

"You boys okay?" he asked, looking for one son to the other with concern in his eyes.

Dean cleared his throat.

"Just fine, Dad," he assured him, speaking up for Sam.

John frowned.

"You got another headache?" he asked Dean. Dean sighed and nodded. "That's unusual… you've had headaches almost every day this week, haven't you?"

"It's nothing, Dad, I'm fine," Dean assured him. "The pills will kick in soon."

"Will you be right for tonight?" John asked, glancing over his shoulder at Sam. "Maybe you should stay home? Or we could put the hunt off another night?"

Dean winced when he saw his brother shift in his seat. This hunt was important to Sam, and he wasn't going to get in the way of something that could help his brother.

"No, we take care of this thing tonight," Dean insisted. "That thing isn't going to live any longer than today, end of story."

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Arriving home, John watched Sam climb out of the car and head inside. He had barely waited for the car to stop before jumping out and John worried that he might not have recovered quite as much as he'd though. He knew that Sam had started getting his appetite back, the doctor had explained that that would happen gradually but it was a good sign just the same. Sam had dived right into the research again, and seemed determined to return to life as they'd known it as quickly as possible. Hunting and all… but he still wasn't talking to them as much John had hoped, he barely said two words to Joshua and Dean, well… he barely spoke to Dean at all and seemed to be avoiding him at all costs – except if it meant being away from Dean for more than a few minutes. Complicated child that he was, Sam refused to let Dean out of his sight even while he refused to speak to him… 

John shook his head. It was a new turn of events for him, but Sam was speaking to him more than anyone else. He just wasn't sure why and he wasn't convinced that it was a good sign.

"How is he?" John asked his eldest son, realising Dean hadn't moved either.

"He'll be fine," Dean assured his father. "Just dealing with some stuff, I think."

"What stuff?" John turned in his seat, focussing all his attention on Sam.

"He's blaming himself for this whole mess… the hunts not finished, two more people died, the overdose, the whole thing…" Dean explained, glancing at his father. "He thinks it's his fault that any of this happened."

"He was drugged," John sighed, looking back at the motel room door. "How could that be his fault?"

"You know Sam…"

"Did he tell you that's what he was thinking?" John asked.

Dean shook his head.

"Didn't have to…"

"But… if he's not talking to you, how can you know?"

"Because I know Sam," Dean reminded his father. "It took me a while to work out what was bothering him, but there it is… and I have a feeling that he thinks we blame him too."

"What do we do?" John asked. "Should I go talk to him?"

"No," Dean answered. "Now's not a good time, he doesn't want to talk… I think that this hunt is important to him because he wants to prove himself, so maybe we can just try and encourage him and let him know we're on his side…"

John nodded.

"At least he's talking to me, anyway," John smiled. He saw a flicker of something cross Dean's face and wasn't sure he knew what it meant. He finally decided to ask, but he soon wished he hadn't. "What?"

"Well, I don't think he's talking to you for the reason you think he is," Dean explained gently. He took a deep breath, clearly wishing he didn't have to explain, but John knew he knew better. "Sam's talking to you because he thinks you're disappointed in him already and he's used to it…"

John's heart sank as Dean got out of the car. He wasn't disappointed in Sam, not at all. How could he be when Sam had grown up to be a good kid, smart and strong… a bit headstrung and not always willing to listen or take orders, but he would learn in time, and John was trying to be patient. Okay, he thought. I suck at being patient… but surely Sam didn't think…

"Geez, Sammy," John hissed under his breath before getting out of the car. He was determined to talk to Sam about everything as soon as he saw an opening. He had to convince his son that this stuff wasn't his fault, and that he wasn't disappointed in him!

Dean was right, he realised when he saw Sam buried in the books again. Now wasn't the time, Sam really didn't want to talk…

Later, John decided. After the hunt…

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

**_Moonrise_**

Sam and Dean piled out of the backseat of the Impala, following John and Joshua to the trunk. John pulled out shotguns and handed them around. Everyone checked their weapons, collected torches and hand guns, extra ammunition… whatever they could think of to take with them. They still didn't know what type of Distortion Demon they were dealing with, so they took the main things that could kill or hurt them. And things that wouldn't in case the people controlling the thing turned up…

"Now, we know that holy water and wrought iron has no effect on these things," John reminded them, loading his gun. "But silver and fire seem to slow it down some… it looks like a shadow but it's corporeal – Sam's word, not mine… he's the genius in the family after all. But that means that this thing has a weakness, we just gotta find it."

"Silver knife," Joshua announced, flipping the blade open and then shut it before pocketing it. "And everything's blessed, just for that extra edge."

"Good," John nodded. He turned to Sam. "Anything else you can think of?"

Sam shook his head.

"Most of these things can be wounded, but some of the stronger ones need a ceremony to take it out… some sort of ritual, but they're rare. Some of the weaker ones can be killed by decapitation but only if the blade is silver, otherwise it just… sort of grows another head. There are a few that can be killed or sent back to hell by destroying whatever has control over it, but that's the human's… and it requires burning any dark alters or anything it's attached to," Sam explained quickly, tucking his gun into his waistband and picking up his shotgun. "Other than that, we're up against… well, a shadow. I don't know was exactly will kill this thing, because we don't know what type it is."

"Shouldn't we find out?" Dean asked, still wishing he didn't have to let Sam go in there.

"There's no way to do that without finding out whose controlling it and how… that's one of the biggest problems with these things, they're so ancient that most of the information on them is gone," Sam explained. "They will kill whatever gets in their way, but usually they're killing on command… which means these people who have died have been targeted."

"Right, lets get going," John announced. Everyone checked their weapons and headed into the woods at the points they had worked out earlier.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut briefly, hoping that his headache didn't hit him again. His vision was still dancing and a little jumpy, but it wasn't as bad as earlier. Still, he didn't feel a hundred percent and he was worried about Sam. John seemed to think he'd be okay, but Dean wasn't so sure. Sam was still dealing with some issues, and lack of sleep was one of them.

Something about this hunt really bothered Dean. It had him worried. He had a knot in his stomach that told him something bad was coming, that something horrible was going to happen. He'd been worried about it all day and the minute he got in the car his heart had started racing in his chest.

"Sam, stay close," Dean told him. They were marking out a grid through the woods and Sam was going to be at least ten feet away from Dean most of the time, and he didn't like it. "Don't go too far ahead, okay?"

"Okay Dean," Sam assured him, though the impatience in his tone wasn't lost on Dean. He didn't care how annoyed Sam was about it, Dean would feel a lot better if Sam was nearby and he wasn't planning on letting him get too far away.

"I mean it, little brother," Dean added again, side stepping a broken branch in front of him. He kept his eyes trained ahead, but he couldn't make out more than mere shapes. He wondered if the darkness had gotten deeper somehow, or if it was another result of the migraine attacking him.

Sam didn't answer and Dean swung around to face him. He could see Sam moving up ahead, could make out his shape as he dodged branches of his own and kept his shotgun trained ahead like a good soldier. Dean took a deep breath and looked ahead with his gun at the ready. He had to focus on the hunt and trust his little brother to be okay… and Dean knew he could be there with him in seconds if he needed it.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

It was about ten minutes into the hunt, Sam figured, when he first heard something up ahead that sent his stomach into knots. Something was moving around in the shadow, there was a hissing sound followed by a growl and he knew immediately that they were in for some trouble.

Training his eyes through the darkness, hoping to be able to spot the demon – or whatever threat it proved to be – before it got the jump on him, Sam couldn't help but glance over his shoulder to check on where his brother was. Dean was further behind than Sam had realised, he seemed to be moving slower than normal and Sam wondered if he had really been up to the hunt after all. Dean seemed to bend over at the waist a moment, resting one hand on his knee as if to steady himself, but before Sam could call out a warning to him that they had company, the menacing growl sounded again…

…and it was a lot closer.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

John made his way toward the centre of the grid he and Joshua had mapped out, the centre point being where he creature had attacked Sam and Dean almost a week earlier. He held his breath as he moved, constantly having to remind himself to breathe, as anxiety rose in his chest. He was worried about the boys, worried that Sam might not have been ready for this after all. Doubts filled his mind, even as he told himself he was being silly. Sam was a good kid, a good hunter and Dean was right nearby… they'd be fine. They'd come up against this thing once before and Sam had been resourceful enough to fight in off while Dean was injured and unable to help.

And Dean, headaches aside, had recovered well from those injuries. Both the boys had – though John had seen Sam stiffen once or twice when he'd been sitting too long at the desk, wincing as he worked kinks out of sore muscles. Neither of them were quite at their best, he knew, but they had both insisted they were okay… Sam especially. John didn't know why Sam had been so determined to finish this hunt, but he understood it was somehow important to him so he'd agreed and decided he was being over protective. After all, he had come close to losing him not long ago, it was natural for him to be a little weary of letting him hunt… but they had to keep going, had to finish the hunt before others got hurt.

John saw no sign of the creature and started to wonder whether it was going to make an appearance when a sound filled the air that told him he wouldn't have to wait much longer…

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Joshua heard a noise that was anything but natural and turned to John right away. John was running along his designated path toward the direction and Joshua knew he was worried about the boys. The sound had coming from that direction and that could only mean one thing…

Whatever it was, was closer to Sam and Dean than they were… and they'd have to run to get there in time to help them.

Joshua was racing through the woods, branches slapping at his face as he ran, jumping over broken branches and whatever other obstacle got in his way. His heart was in his throat, and he could only imagine what was going through John's mind.

He could imagine, but he pushed the thoughts aside and concentrated on the hunt at hand, refusing to let the past interfere with the here and now.

"SAM!" Dean's voice rang out, louder and more afraid than Joshua had ever heard.

_BANG!_

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Dean raced further up the track, trying to come alongside his brother as the younger boy ran. Sam was fast, though, and Dean was finding it hard to breathe, hard to focus. He didn't know what that noise was, but it sounded less than natural and it had made Sam hit the ground running. Dean couldn't see what it was, but he could see the fear on his brother's face… this was bad, this was really, really bad.

Sam suddenly changed direction, opting to cross over more rugged terrain and headed toward Dean's direction. They'd have a better chance of taking it on if they were together, Dean knew, so he continued to try and keep up with his brother, hoping to close the gap between them before…

A flash of blinding white light flooded Dean's eyes for a moment and he closed them against it. His eyes burned, his head pounded, but he forced himself to look again. Everything seemed to have slowed down, everything seem to have halted before him and as he saw the creature baring down on his brother, he stopped in his tracks and readied his gun…

"SAM!" Dean yelled, seeing the creature gaining on him. He took aim, realising that the thing was dangerously close to Sam now and he didn't have time to wait, he pulled the trigger…

_BANG!_

There was a roar… a grunt… a thud…

Dean felt his chest tighten, his heart race and lurch in his chest. His head threatened to explode…

When his knees gave out beneath him, Dean could do nothing to break his fall as the darkness overwhelmed him…

**TO BE CONTINUED…**

**A/N – Evil cliffy? Should I leave it there and go shopping? Should I go out for a leisurely stroll? Or should I sit here and continue to write before I get a hundred messages telling me how mean I am?**

**Let me think on that a minute…**


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N – This chapter is written in honour of my ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY of writing Supernatural fanfics! I was curious about it yesterday so I looked it up to see when I'd started writing and checked the date only to discover it was actually 19 January 2007!!! I can't believe it's been a whole year, but it just goes to show that time really doe fly when you're having fun… it's been a wonderfully rewarding experience, and I look forward to the year to come! I've made some great friends on this site and had some wonderful support and encouragement from them and other readers/reviewers. Thanks to everyone whose gotten me through the year, and don't worry, I'll be around for a while yet!**_

Disclaimer: As usual, not mine… not feeling particularly witty, so that's it. Saving my energy for the story ahead…

**Chapter Five**

**Really, Really Bad…**

"Dean!"

John's voice echoed through Dean's head but he couldn't seem to focus, couldn't seem to open his eyes. His whole body felt heavy, like his blood had turned to lead, and his mind was filled with images that were painful and distorted. Sam… pain… oh God! Dean gasped for breath, trying to fight against whatever it was that was weighing him down, trying to fight through the darkness. He reached out with his left arm, grabbing at the ground around him and trying to drag himself toward where his brother was. He had to reach Sam…

"No," Dean murmured, prying his eyes open but seeing nothing but that blinding white light. Sam's face floated somewhere beyond the light, pain and betrayal in his face. "Sammy…"

Dean tried to focus on his brother, but all he could see was his blank stare…

"Oh God, Sammy," Dean groaned, pain shooting through his head. He tried to drag himself closer to his brother, but he couldn't move anymore. He didn't have the strength left in his body, all he could do was let himself sag back on the ground, lowering his head and squeezing his eyes shut against the images that haunted him. "Sammy…"

"DEAN!" John's voice rang through louder and Dean felt strong arms lifting him from the ground. He moaned at the movement but pried his eyes open. The light was still there, blinding him but he could make out his father's face. "Dean? Are you okay? What happened? Where's Sam?"

Dean frowned. Sam was… Sam was… Dean couldn't answer, couldn't tell his father what had happened, couldn't tell him what he'd done. He closed his eyes and pointed passed his father at the path where he'd seen his brother… his little brother…

"Sam…" he groaned, fighting to get to his feet. He fell back against his father, unable to move as Sam's face flashed through his mind again. "I'm sorry…"

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

John glanced up, looking in the direction Dean had pointed. There was nothing there… Sam wasn't there, the creature wasn't there, nothing. All John had found was Dean collapsed on the ground, his body twisted at an awkward angle, his face pale like… well, like he'd seen a ghost, except that had never made Dean turn white like it would most people.

"Joshua?" John called out as he saw his friend kneel down checking something. "You got something?"

Joshua glanced up, a worried look on his face that sent John's heart racing. He got to his feets and rushed to John's side, glancing down at Dean.

"Shit," Joshua whispered, dropping to John's side. "What happened?"

"I don't know," John admitted. "You got something, don't you? What did you find?"

Joshua hesitated before holding his hand up to show him the red smear on his fingertips.

"Sammy's?" John asked, his throat choking.

Joshua nodded.

"No other sign of him," he said. "No drag marks, no blood drops, just this one pool of blood… John, there's something going on here that we're not ready for. I think we've gotta make a phone call…"

John nodded, looking back down at Dean.

"John, we've gotta go," Joshua insisted, looking back down at Dean. "He's in a bad way and we don't know what's wrong with him, we have to get out of here…"

"No," Dean muttered, lifting his head with a grunt of pain. He wasn't lying in a weird position anymore, he was on his back with his head on his father's knee and when he opened his eyes he saw the fear that was in John's eyes. "We have to… Sam…"

"Dean, what happened?" John asked again. "Where's Sam?"

"I… I…" Dean swallowed, closing his eyes again. "I k-killed him…"

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Dean felt his throat close over as he heard the words come out of his mouth, his mind screaming at him that he should have been the one to die, not Sam… that Sam had deserved a better brother than he was or could ever have been… Pain, guilt, anger… rage… filled Dean's chest, grief already consuming everything he thought and felt. He had killed his little brother, shot him… taken his life with his own weapon… Sam's face flashed in his mind, his mouth wide with the pained cry that was muffled by the gunshot, his eyes wide with fear and betrayal…

Oh God, Dean thought. I killed my brother…

He could feel his father's arms tightening around him and knew he was being lifted to his feet. He couldn't fight it, he was being led away from the woods, away from his brother, when all he wanted to do was join him… he didn't deserve…

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

John sat beside Dean's bed, watching him tossing in his sleep. He was burning up, his face was red with fever, his voice strained as he groaned… he called out his brother's name, pleading for forgiveness, begging to wake up, and when there was nothing left but his muffled, pained cries, John tried to wake him up.

"Dean, come on, dude," John called to him. He grabbed Dean by the shoulders and pulled him to sit up, but even as he shook him, Dean moaned. His pained cries settled down and the tension left his body. He sagged against John, exhaustion taking over his body. John sighed, feeling completely helpless, completely lost. Dean was in bad shape, he was sick, something was attacking his body and there was nothing he could do to help him… John was afraid that Dean was going to die, that they wouldn't be able to figure out what to do…

Worse still, Sam… little Sammy, John's little boy, was out there somewhere. He was hurt, missing, and all alone. Dean said… Dean had said that he… John shook his head, unable to accept the possibility. Sam couldn't be dead, he wasn't willing to believe it. Dean would never have hurt him, even if something was messing with his head…

Sam had to be okay, and right now John knew that he had no other choice but to wait.

"I spoke to Bobby," Joshua announced, walking in from the parking lot. John looked up at him, his eyes searching beyond his friend. "I'm John, I looked every where, I couldn't find Sammy anywhere…"

"Jesus," John whispered, laying Dean back down and holding his head in his hands. "What am I going to do? Where is he?"

Joshua sighed.

"Bobby's on his way, I told him what was happening… some of it anyway, but the minute he heard about Dean he said he was on his way. He's a few hours out," Joshua explained, collecting a cloth and wetting it in the bathroom, carrying it back over to John. John took it and began wiping Dean's forehead, trying to cool him down. "He said he's calling Jim Murphy… I think he might know something we don't, John…"

John nodded but didn't respond. If he were being honest he'd have to admit that he was relieved to hear that Jim and Bobby were coming, that he would have someone to help him find his boy and figure out what was happening to Dean… but it would take more honesty than he could muster to admit that he was fast losing hope for saving his family…

He couldn't even admit that to himself…

"We're going to figure this out, John," Joshua assured him. "We're going to find Sam, I swear…"

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

_**Two hours later**_

There was a knock at the motel room door, startling John awake. He had fallen asleep, slumped in the chair by Dean's bed, his hand resting on his son's forearm. He glanced at Dean, noting he seemed to be resting somewhat peacefully for now, and then checked his watch as Joshua answered the door.

It was two in the morning.

"How is he?" Bobby asked, moving immediately to Dean's side and pressing a hand against the younger man's forehead. "He's burning up."

"His temperature is about 99.8," John told him. "You drive like a bandit or something? You cut your trip by at least an hour."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't sure how much time we'd have," Bobby answered gruffly. He wore the most serious look John had ever seen cross his face and he immediately felt sick. If Bobby was this worried, there was more to the story than John realised. "How longs he been like this?"

"He's been unconscious since we found him, in and out…" John explained. He looked at his watch again, realised he wasn't thinking clearly. "Um, about two and a half, three hours ago?"

"His symptoms would have started before that," Bobby sighed, eyeing the desk and moving toward it. It was still covered with open books and notes. "Has he been acting strange lately? Dizzy spells, anything like that?"

"He's had migraines," John told him. "And he did lose control of the car but I don't know if that was because he was dizzy or not… other than the headaches, he hasn't mentioned anything to me."

Bobby shook his head.

"You damn Winchester's are too stubborn," Bobby snapped angrily. "You're going to hide some sickness one day and get yourselves killed… let's just hope that this isn't what's going to happen to Dean right now…"

"Bobby, what do you know?" John asked, narrowing his gaze at his friend. He felt Joshua shifting uncomfortably from across the room and knew Bobby had him worried too. He just wished that he'd explain what was going on.

"When did the headaches start?"

"About six days ago, maybe a week…" John sighed, realising Bobby wasn't going to say anything until he was sure. "Bobby…"

"I can't have any of this 'maybe' shit, John, I have to know," Bobby snapped, beginning to pace. "If you're telling me he's been having headaches for a week, I'm guessing the visual hallucinations started a few days ago, though I'm guessing he didn't realise that that's what they were… tonight is what I really need to know about now… did he say what happened to Sam?"

John took a deep breath, closing his eyes against what he was about to say as if it meant he wouldn't have to hear it if he couldn't see it. Logic had no place in his world right now.

"He said he…" John shook his head, rubbing his eyes angrily. "He said…"

"John, come on…" Bobby sat on the edge of the nearby bed and lowered his voice, deliberately trying to calm down. "Did he say he hurt Sam?"

John shook his head.

"He said he killed him," Joshua piped up, taking the burden of saying those words away from John. "There was blood in the clearing, but no sign of Sam and no drag marks."

"Okay, look, this is serious," Bobby sighed. "John, if I'm right, and it sounds like it is… this is only going to get worse… we have to find Sam, but right now that's the least of our worries."

"He could be bleeding to death!" John gasped. "He's hurt and there's some scary ass demon out there… I can't leave him out there alone!"

"You don't have any choice, John," Bobby told him gently. "If we go after Sam, Dean will die and there's nothing we can do to stop it… but if we help Dean, we might be able to get to Sam before it's too late."

"Do you know what's happening to Sam?" John asked. "Is he dead?"

"I doubt it, though Dean's a damn good shot… if he'd been aiming for Sam I'd be more inclined to say he might be dead, but he wasn't and there's no body… I think something's taken him," Bobby explained. "Now, believe it or not, that's the good news…"

"Great, what's the bad news?"

"If we don't find Sam in a week, there might not be anything left of him… and if we do find him, he might not be the same Sam he was when you saw him last," Bobby explained. "But we can't worry about that."

"Why the hell not?"

"John, Sam has more time right now than Dean does," Bobby told him. "Dean will die in about three days if we don't figure this out… and the biggest problem we have now is that we cant move him and Jim wont be here for about three days… we're really going to be pushing it…"

John looked at his son as he slept. Dean looked so peaceful now, far from how he had been even an hour ago. How could he look better if he was dying? Nothing felt real, nothing felt possible, it was all just so wrong…

"How?" John asked.

"How what?"

"How will he die?"

Bobby sighed. John new he'd been hoping to avoid that particular part of the conversation, but John wanted to know. He needed to know… he couldn't let his son go through all of this alone, there was no way he was leaving his side and yet… if there was something he could do… he needed to know what he was up against.

Bobby glanced at Joshua. The look didn't pass by unnoticed by the remaining Winchester.

"You know?" John asked, his tone accusing. "You know what's happening to Dean, and you didn't tell me?"

"John, Bobby just gave me a few highlights, he didn't have time to fill me in," Joshua told him. "I didn't know the rest and since there was nothing we could do I figured it would be better to wait til Bobby got here."

John glared, a feeling of betrayal rising in his chest that he knew wasn't fair or entirely rational. His friend had done the right thing, he just didn't like it.

"Tell me," he demanded gruffly.

"In most cases," Bobby began, looking down at Dean. "The victim commits suicide…"

John swallowed, shaking his head.

"No," he snapped, refusing to accept that possibility. "Dean would never… he couldn't! He would never even consider it!"

"Even if he thought he'd killed his brother?" Joshua asked, carefully.

John couldn't answer. He didn't know what to say. Sam was the one and only weakness he knew of that was strong enough in Dean to make him behave irrationally. Dean took risks, he always did, especially when there were people to protect, but when Sam was involved… all reason went out the window and he was more than willing to sacrifice himself to save his little brother. Sam was Dean's whole world, John knew that. Even though he didn't entirely understand the depths of the relationship the brother's shared, he knew that it was further ingrained than he could imagine. Each of the boys were willing to give up the world to save the other… and John had to admit he had often worried about the lengths they would go to for each other.

Now, however, he didn't have to stop and think about what Dean would do if he believed he'd killed his brother… he already knew the answer. That was a pain that Dean would never be able to bare, he would never be able to forgive himself… how was Dean ever supposed to live without Sam? Dean had never told John in so many words, but John had gotten the distinct impression that if something were to happen to Sam he would hold himself responsible, and now John worried about how responsible he would feel. But in this case, if Dean had shot Sam and believed he'd killed him…

…there'd be no stopping him.

"What am I going to do?" John whispered, hanging his head in his hands helplessly.

Bobby laid a hand on his shoulder.

"We're going to watch him every second of every day, John," Bobby told him. "Dean wont be alone, I promise you… and right now I'm going to call Jim and fill him in, see what else we can do and then I'm hitting those books of yours and see what else I can find out…"

John smiled.

"They're Sam's books," he corrected proudly, looking at the pile of papers on the desk. "He's become the researching machine…"

Bobby nodded and pulled his cell phone from his pocket. He immediately flipped it open, hitting the redial button to call the pastor that, John hoped, would have all the answers.

He glanced at Dean again. How could this be happening? What had gone wrong… his son, his little boy, how could they be talking about suicide watch to stop him from hurting himself? And what's worse, as Joshua pointed out, they couldn't be sure that it wouldn't have been out of the realms of possibility even if Dean hadn't been effected by the creature. Sam was the only thing in Dean's world that had ever happened, and if he had killed him…

How could this be happening?

"Bobby?" John looked up at his friend, interrupting the phone call. Something had just occurred to him, and he needed one final answer. "If he doesn't… you know… will he still die?"

Bobby hesitated.

"Yes," he stated.

John swallowed.

"How?" he asked again.

"His body will shut down, piece by piece," Bobby told him. "All his major organs would start failing until he finally just… until he died."

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

John snapped awake, lifting his head from where it rested on Dean's shoulder. He had felt Dean tense, as if he was making a fist and when he looked up he saw his son's eyes were open. Dean was awake, and there was a pain in his eyes that worried John more than anything had in his life. Dean's eyes, normally sparkling and teasing, were dark and cold.

"Dean?" John spoke gently, trying to keep any tone of fear or anxiety out of his voice. "How do you feel?"

Dean didn't answer. He didn't move, barely even seemed to breathe. The only John saw in his was, somehow, the darkness in his eyes seemed to deepen.

"Dean?" John tried again. Bobby had left the desk and moved to John's side, glancing down at Dean. John waited, knowing that the man had something to say but he wasn't sure what it was. He wasn't prepared to hear it, either, when Bobby spoke.

"This is it," Bobby began. "We can't leave him alone or…"

John knew what he meant but he tuned out anyway. He watched Dean carefully, seeing something beneath the darkness that he hadn't previously noticed, something he could barely recognise. It took him a minute to identify it, but then a flash came through his mind, a fourteen year old memory…

The look in Dean's eyes the night his mother died. The fear, the pain, the devastation that only a four year old could wear so openly. John knew he'd worn the same devastation in his eyes that night from the moment he'd seen his beautiful Mary pinned to the ceiling, bleeding, eyes wide as she pleaded silently with him to save their precious baby… their little miracle… her mouth open in a cry she couldn't muster…

The look in Dean's eyes now was darker, but John knew what it meant. Dean had lost the one thing in his life that had always been there, that he had always relied on, always counted on… the one person that gave himself meaning. For John that had been Mary, and after her death it had been his son's who had so desperately needed him to be there for them… but for Dean there was no one left. Sam had been his sole reason for getting out of bed every day, his reason to do everything he had ever done – with the exception of a few blondes along the way.

"Dean, none of this is your fault," John told him, hoping to break through the haze that had taken his son and convince him that they could still save Sam, that he wasn't lost to them. "Sam's going to be okay, we'll get him back…"

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

_"Dean, none of this is your fault…"_

Dean could hear his father's words, but they seemed so far away that he couldn't taken them in properly. He remembered saying the same thing to Sam, in the car… before the hunt… before Dean… before he killed him… Dean didn't care what his father said anyway, nothing mattered. Sam was gone, how could anything else matter? How could anything compare to that?

I killed my little brother, Dean thought, pain filling his chest.

_"Sam's going to be okay, we'll get him back…"_

No we wont, Dean though bitterly. He's gone, I killed him…

As awareness sunk around Dean and the pain of the night before threatened to overwhelm him, he realised that other pains had subsided considerably. The bright light that had blinded him had gone, the vice-like pain in his head had dulled to a steady ache, the strange colours that had distorted his vision was gone completely… everything around him was clear, painfully clear. The only thing that remained was the agony in his chest with every heartbeat.

He hated that sound, that rhythmic thud in his chest… it wasn't fair, it wasn't right. His body was carrying on as if nothing had ever happened, as if he hadn't done anything wrong. But he had! Sam was gone, he was dead, and it was all Dean's fault… all of it! He should have waited, he should have fought the creature off the way Sam had when they'd first come across it… Sam had protected Dean from it without shooting him, without killing him. Dean had failed to protect his brother…

Dean had failed…

Failure was even the right word, he realised. How can you fail to protect someone when you're the one that hurt them? How can you be protecting the person you kill? Life had a twisted sense of humour, Dean thought. Giving him a baby brother that the doctors said would never be… he remembered the tears his mother had shed the day the doctor told her that she'd never had any more children. She'd had complications when Dean was born, and then a few years later she wanted another baby only to be told that the damage was too severe and the scar tissue she had would prevent her dream from coming true…

More tears the day the same doctor told her se was having a baby…

_"How do you feel about having a little brother, Dean?" she asked, pulling Dean onto her lap and putting his hand on the newly forming bump._

"_A brother?" Dean gasped, staring at his mother's tummy with wide eyes. He looked up at his father. "A brother?"_

_John nodded, grinning widely._

"_A brother, someone you can play with and one day he can wrestle with us and play football with us…" John told him. "What do you think?"_

_Dean had pursed his lips a moment, considering everything he was being told carefully. He shook his head and rubbed him mom's tummy._

"_No," he said, much to his parents dismay. Before they could ask what was wrong, he continued. "I'm gonna look out for him, make sure no one ever hurts him…"_

Dean's own tears filled his eyes as he remembered his promise to his little brother before he'd even been born. How wrong he had been, he realised. He hadn't done a very good job of protecting him… he'd lived to fourteen before Dean had taken what was left of his life…

_"Dean, this is Sammy, your little brother," John announced, holding the tiny bundle out to the latest big brother, laying him gently in Dean's arms. "What do you think?"_

"_Wow," Dean whispered, cradling the tiny baby carefully. "He's so tiny."_

"_You were that tiny once," John told him. "But don't worry, Sammy's going to get big and strong, just like his big brother…"_

"_I have to be bigger than him, Daddy," Dean told him, looking up at his father with concern in his eyes. "How am I gonna protect him if he's bigger than me?"_

_John chuckled._

"_Don't worry, Dean," John assured him. "You'll be able to protect him… you'll always look out for him…"_

_Dean grinned._

"_Nothing's ever gonna happen to you, Sammy," Dean promised, placing a gentle kiss on top of his baby brother's head. "I wont let anything happen to you…"_

Dean was bent over the toilet, heaving painfully before he'd even realised that he'd moved. His stomach, already empty of what little contents it had had, began expelling bile that burned as it was rudely ejected from his body. He heard himself moaning with the pain and effort of the retching, and each time Sam's face flashed through his mind he found himself heaving more.

When he was finally convinced that his body had finished punishing him, Dean turned from the bowl, resting his head and back against the wall and breathing deeply. Sam… he couldn't drag his thoughts away from his little brother, the tiny baby he had been, swearing to protect him… his best friend, his partner on the hunt, the one and only constant he had had in his life.

Their father had been in and out of their lives, frequently leaving to hunt, leaving them with someone else or alone for Dean to take care of them… but Sam, no matter what had happened, Sam had always been by his side… always.

Except now.

Opening his eyes as Sam's pained face mocked him again, he saw he had a three man audience watching him carefully. John, Bobby and Joshua were standing not three feet from the door way, eyeing him with fear and concern. He wondered briefly how long they had been there for but when he saw his father open his mouth to speak he realised he couldn't stand the look in their eyes.

Judgement… fear… accusal…

Unable to stand it a second longer, Dean kicked the door shut with his foot, reaching up and turning the lock quickly. He listened to them furiously bang on the door, calling out to him to open up but he sighed and closed his eyes, refusing to let their words seep in. He just wanted it quiet, cold and dark and quiet, so he could close his eyes and pretend none of this had ever happened… he had to… he wanted the whole world to go away. He didn't want to have to think anymore, to see the pain on his brother's face as he had desperately tried to reach safety, to get help, the surprise as Dean had raised his gun and pulled the trigger…

Dean pulled himself to his feet, holding onto the basin to keep himself steady as his legs threatened to betray him…

He hung his head, his brother's voice pleading with him to help…

"Jesus, Sammy," Dean muttered, hearing the catch in his throat. "What have I done?"

_You were supposed to help me! _ Sam's voice cried. _You were supposed to protect me!_

"Sammy, I'm so sorry…" Dean murmured, tears slipping freely over his cheeks.

_You promised, _Sam accused. _You promised you'd always be there…_

"Oh God," Dean hissed, gripping the basin hard as anger, guilt and hatred filled his chest.

_I needed you! I needed you to help me… to save me!_

Dean felt his heart pounded hard in his chest as he gritted his teeth painfully and opened his eyes…

_I'm your brother!!! How could you do this to me???_

Dean saw his knuckles turning white as he gripped the sink tighter. He knew if he let go his world would spin into oblivion, but he was convinced he was halfway there…

_I'M YOUR BROTHER! I LOVED YOU!_

Dean glanced at himself in the mirror, seeing pale skin and red eyes staring back at him. Tears were streaked down his cheeks, his lip was quivering as he fought passed the lump in his throat to speak.

"I loved you too, little brother," Dean whispered, pleading with his reflection to believe him. "I would have died for you…"

_If you loved me, how could you do this to me? HOW? You don't love me, you never loved me… if you loved me, I wouldn't be here alone… it's cold and dark and I'm afraid… How COULD you?!?_

Dean felt as if fire were rising out of him, starting at his feet, travelling up his legs, over his stomach, into his chest, down his arm and finally exploding in his head. His whole body had begun to shake…

"_SAM!_" he cried, his fist shattering the glass in front of him before he realised what was happening. He saw blood spatter on the mirror, but the anger just continued to rise in him. He saw his face, fractured in it's reflection, and was filled with a self hate so painful it consumed him. He pounded his fist into the mirror again and again until there was nothing left…

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

John stood back from the door, realising that Dean was in worse shape than he could ever have anticipated. He could he his son mumbling to himself, as if he were talking to someone, but he couldn't make out the words. He hadn't been alone for more than a minute but it was more than enough for him to do some damage and judging by the torment he had seen on Dean's face seconds before he'd closed the door, he was mere minutes from breaking point.

"Kick it down," John announced, prepared to rush in the minute the door was open. Bobby, not needing any other enticement, raised a powerful leg and drove it into the door so hard it splintered at the handle.

Glass shattered inside, accompanied by Dean's pained voice crying out his brother's name. The sound sent chills through John's body as he listened, waiting for Bobby to get the door open…

On more kick and the door opened, barely standing on it's hinges. John raced passed Bobby and grabbed his oldest son around the chest, pulling his away from the broken mirror. He checked Dean's hand for glass to make sure he hadn't grabbed any pieces, but aside from the shards caught in his skin John knew he had gotten to him in time.

"First aid kit," John barked, seeing Bobby run to the other side of the room. Joshua was by John's side, wrapping a clean white towel around Dean's injured hand to stem the bleeding until they got him situated back on the bed. John held onto him with all his strength as Dean struggled, tears streaming down his face.

"I KILLED HIM!" he yelled, aiming accusing eyes at his father. "He's all ALONE! He needs me, I have to get to him…"

"Dean, no," John told him gently, raising his voice to make sure Dean could hear him. "Sam's okay, he's not dead, I promise…"

"That's one hell of a promise to make," Joshua muttered quietly, helping John hold the struggling Winchester.

"Sam's isn't dead, he's fine," John snapped. Before he had even finished speaking he felt the fight go out of Dean as he collapsed, slumping in his arms. John looked up at Bobby as he reached them with the first aid kit.

"It's the infection," Bobby explained. "It plays with the victims mind, convinces them it's their fault, that they should die in order to save their loved one from spending an eternity alone… if he doesn't kill himself first, it'll drain the life right out of him…"

John and Joshua had managed to drag Dean's weight to the bed, laying him down carefully.

"Three of us here, in the room," John hissed angrily, grabbing the first aid kit from Bobby. "How are we supposed to keep him alive if he can get passed all of us that easily?"

"We'll be ready for him next time," Joshua assured him. "We know what to expect now."

"That's not good enough!" John yelled, looking up as he unwrapped Dean's bloody hand. "It could have already been too late…"

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Bobby shut the motel room door behind him as he waited for Jim Murphy to answer his cell phone. When he finally heard the man's voice he wanted to sigh in relief. He sounded so close, and yet Bobby knew he wasn't close enough.

"How long?" he asked, not announcing himself.

"Another day," Jim told him, sounding exhausted. "I'm driving non-stop, Bobby, I can't cut a three day drive any more than that…"

Bobby nodded before realising how futile that was.

"It's getting bad here, Jim, I'm running out of ideas," Bobby told him. He was worried about his friend driving so far so quickly, and with no breaks, but he knew there was no choice if they wanted to save Dean's life… and Sam's. "We could've lost him right now… John's freaking out, Joshua's… well, he's Joshua…"

"Ever the optimist?" Jim asked, chuckling lightly.

"Yeah," Bobby agreed. "But I don't think even he's believing it this time… and meanwhile, when we're all busy dealing with this, Sam's…"

"I know, Bobby," Jim interrupted him, reminding the man he was well aware of what would be happening to the younger of the Winchester brothers. "We can't help him right now, we just have to save Dean as soon as possible and get to Sam as fast as we can…"

"Before…"

"I know, Bobby," Jim assured him. "We'll get there before… I promise…"

**TO BE CONTINUED…**

**A/N – Got you hooked yet? Another evil cliffy? I do write cliffhangers – as OFTEN as possible – on purpose, but I must admit I was hoping to finish this chapter yesterday so I wouldn't leave you hanging for so long… I can't believe I couldn't get it written! LoL**

**Incidentally, if you come across a muse who looks a little lost, ask her if her name's Missy – she was named after the creepy ass little girl in the Benders – and give her a piece of chocolate and send her home…**

**Reviews appreciated.**


	6. Chapter 6

Dedication to: POAETPAINTER for feeding Missy for me while she was AWOL!!! Nice to have her home, thanks very much for keeping her well fed! Hopefully the sugar buzz will kick in soon!!!

Disclaimer: As usual, not mine… not feeling particularly witty, so that's it. Saving my energy for the story ahead…

**Chapter Six**

**The Dark Place**

Sam shifted, pain radiating through his body as consciousness began to reach him. He opened his eyes, glancing around him in the dark. He had no idea where he was, but he knew he wasn't in the woods anymore. There were no trees, everything was silent, cold.

"Dean?" Sam muttered, reaching an arm instinctively into the darkness in search of his brother. The minute he moved it, however, pain tore through his body emanating from his shoulder. Agony sent ripples through him, pulsating in time with his beat. Dean hadn't responded t his call, had come to his side… hadn't tried to calm his pained cry.

Sam knew he was alone.

Tears pricked his eyes, wondering where he was and how long he'd been there. Dean would be going out of his mind, he knew. He had to figure out a way to get out of there, to reach his brother and let him know he was okay. He tried to pull himself to sit up, but he couldn't seem to move. With his good hand he reached around him, feeling everything nearby that would give him an indication of where he was.

The surface he was lying on was cold and solid, like cement. His hands met with leather straps that bound around his chest and legs tightly, though his arm remained free. Panic rose in his throat at the though of being somewhere unfamiliar, unprotected, alone… he was vulnerable, injured and restrained. Of all the predicaments he was in right now, the restraints were the ones that bothered him the most. If it weren't for them he would at least have a possibility for escape.

Running his hands across the leather straps, he found where they were fastened to the slab he'd been tied to. He swallowed his panic and began fiddling with the straps, limited to using his left arm. It soon became apparent he wasn't going to be able to get free when he discovered they had been bolted to the table.

"Shit," Sam hissed, tears thick in his voice. He was in serious trouble, he knew that. Beginning to struggle against the restraints, he let out a cry of pain that sent echoes through the room. He couldn't remember what had happened to his shoulder, but he knew it had hurt like hell and since the pain was the last thing he remembered he knew he'd been unconscious since.

He began to struggle again, hoping to be able to grit his teeth through the pain and get free, but this time it was worse. He felt his shoulder shift, pain shooting sharp messages down his shoulder and through his chest.

"SHIT!" Sam cried, louder this time. He bit his lip and closed his eyes, forcing himself to remain still when he heard the noises nearby. He wasn't sure where he was, but he could hear footsteps and they sounded like heavy thuds. He didn't want to be alone anymore, but he sure as hell didn't want anyone to join him unless it was his family coming to rescue him. He couldn't stand the thought of seeing whatever had taken him, having to face it when he was hurt and helpless…

The footsteps approached him. Hands reached out to him in the darkness, probing his arm until it reached his shoulder. Sam forced himself to shift once more as he pulled his body as upright as he could and launched his good arm fist first in the direction of the figure bending over him. The punch landed square on a jaw that felt shockingly human, but Sam felt better for having inflicted some pain on whoever had taken him – even though the man's grunt was followed by Sam's own growl of pain.

"Gonna be like that, huh?" the man muttered, grabbing Sam's arms and strapping them down but his sides. "I was gonna be nice and give you a glass of water, but now I guess I'll just have it myself…"

Sam watched, eyes wide as the man swallowed the water in three gulps. Sam was thirsty, his mouth dry even as his tongue worked to find saliva to sooth his sore throat. He regretted hitting the man as he imagined what the water would have tasted like, how soothing it would have been as it slid down his throat…

"Never mind, maybe tomorrow you wont be so stupid," the man growled at him. He put the glass down nearby and returned his attention to Sam's injured shoulder. "Do you remember how you hurt your shoulder?"

Sam looked away, refusing to answer. It was too dark to be able to make out anything beyond basic features. This man was tall, about as tall as Sam's father he figured, with broad shoulders. But aside from that he couldn't make out any identifiable features.

Dean, Sam pleaded. Please come find me…

"You don't remember?" the man clarified when Sam didn't answer. He chuckled cruelly. "Your brother did it… he shot you… he tried to kill you…"

Sam gasped involuntarily, not believing what this man was telling him. Dean would never hurt him, never!

"I'll just let you lay there and think about it for a while," the man decided. "Maybe tomorrow I'll go digging around in there to get the bullet out… don't worry about infection, though… I can always cut it off, too. I'll bring my bone saw…"

Bile rose in Sam's throat at the thought of losing his arm, but he forced himself to swallow painfully. He wasn't going to give this asshole the satisfaction of knowing he was getting to him. He wasn't going to show his fear, he was going to wait it out and figure a way to freedom.

Dean would be looking for him, anyway. One way or the other, he was going to get out of here…

Before leaving, the man removed the straps on Sam's wrists but maintained his grip. He yanked them forcefully above Sam's head and attached another strap around each. The pain shot through Sam at the movement that his breath caught in his throat and he grimaced as his body threatened to give way to a haze that wanted to take his consciousness away. He tried to move, to bring his arms back to his side, but the restraints rattled above his head and he knew that chains had been attached to his new restraints…

He was not going to be able to get out on his own, he realised as a dull, constant pain settled into his shoulder…

Dean, Sam silently pleaded, wishing that he could transport his thoughts to his brother somehow. Please come and get me…

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

_Dean…_

"Sammy?" Dean mumbled through the darkness, his eyes struggling to see his little brother. "Where are you?"

_Dean… help me…_

"Sam?" Dean felt his heart racing painfully in his chest. "Sam!"

_Dean! You have to help me!_

Dean frowned. His brother's cries were becoming more desperate, more pained and filled with more fear. He hated being apart, hated the thought of Sam being scared and alone…

_Dean… please!_

Dean's eyes shot open and he jumped straight out of bed. Something moved beside him, reaching out for him, but he side stepped from the person's grasp intent on reaching his brother. He wasn't going to leave Sam cold, scare and alone in the dark… he had to help him! He had to be there with him.

As a hand gripped him by the shoulder, tugging him back toward the bed, Dean could hear a voice reaching out to him. He turned and swung a fist at whoever was trying to stop him from reaching his brother.

The punch landed squarely on a jaw, though it sent waves of pain up Dean's arm even as the growl of pain reached his ears.

Ignore the trickle of blood he could feel on his hand, he turned back to his bag and grabbed out a gun. He was going to find his brother if it killed him… and if it was going to kill him, he hoped he could at least survive long enough to reach him.

If he was going to die, it would be by his brother's side.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Sam's eyes remained closed as the pain in his shoulder radiated throughout his body. His mind was racing, thoughts assaulting him no matter how hard he tried to make them stop. His brother's face… Dean… normally so protective of him, so careful with him on a hunt… so aware of where he was and determined to make sure he was safe… Dean's face had worn an expression of hate and anger. He had raised his gun to take aim… he had pulled the trigger…

…with Sam in his sights.

Sam squeezed his eyes closed tighter, trying to understand what had happened. Dean would never have shot him, never! He must have been aiming at the thing that had been chasing Sam, must have been trying to protect him… but then why was he aiming further back? Sam had made a run for it the minute he saw the creature heading toward him, knowing that he wouldn't be able to take it on by himself, and he remembered running towards Dean, calling out to him for help… why would Dean shoot when he couldn't see the creature? And why did he use the shotgun? They were only in case the people who controlled the demon showed up… it wouldn't have hurt the creature.

Could he have been aiming at me? Sam wondered, a lump in his throat. He tried to shake his head, to convince himself that he was wrong, that Dean wouldn't do that, but he couldn't move. His shoulders were starting to cramp now, and they were sending shooting pain through his neck and chest.

Dean…

Sam took a deep breath, unable to stand the silence anymore. He hated hearing the thoughts that raced through his mind, hated thinking about how much he had disappointed Dean lately… he knew that Dean must have been mad at him for drinking something given to him by a person he didn't really know… he knew that Dean would think that was stupid, that he had been irresponsible. The Winchester family didn't trust people easily, didn't take things from people no matter what. They covered their own ass, they protected themselves and watched out for their own…

Sam took another deep breath and, through the pain that racked his body, let his voice ring out as loud as he could.

"_DEAN!"_

Footsteps approached once again and a moment later and face, scarred and disfigured in such a way that the man could only be described as monstrous, appeared before his eyes. He grinned wickedly, his teeth stained yellow, rotting gaps between some of them, his breath a stench so horrible that Sam held his breath to stop from being overcome by it.

"Your brother ain't comin'," the man told him cruelly. "He's the one who put you here, kid… he's the one who left you behind, dumped your ass on us…"

"He wouldn't do that," Sam insisted, breathing heavily as the man pressed a sharp finger into his shoulder, causing new waves of pain to shoot through his body. "He's going to come for me, he wouldn't leave me here… he's going to… find… me…"

The man watched him a moment longer, his smile widening. He opened his mouth wide and silent for a moment before finally letting out a raucous laugh.

"You don't understand yet, do you?" the man hissed, leaning in closer. Sam closed his eyes and tried to move away but the hand that had been pressing into the bullet wound on his shoulder now cupped his chin, forcing him to turn awkwardly and face him. "You're brother knows where you are, you stupid little boy... why do you think he shot you? He left you for us! He gave you to us!"

Sam nearly choked on the rotting stench that emanated from the man's mouth but forced the fear away from him and worked up just enough saliva in his mouth to spit it straight in the horrible man's eye.

"My brother would NEVER do that!" Sam insisted as the man wiped the spit from his eye. "My brother WILL find me and when he does, you're going to wish you were dead…"

The man grinned, an odd delight shining in his eyes. He raised his fist and backhanded Sam across the face, leaving a trail of blood dripping from a cut by Sam's lip from one of the man's unusually long nails that caught his skin.

He leaned in close to Sam.

"That's what you think," he whispered, flicking his tongue over the drip of blood. "He's just happy that you're not around to bug him anymore… he wished you were dead ever since you killed your mother!"

Sam bit back the nausea that threatened at the contact with the man, feeling more vulnerable than ever before.

"I didn't kill my mom," Sam whimpered, unable to fight the emotion that played in his chest as tears slid down his cheeks. "It wasn't my fault…"

"She died trying to protect you," he hissed again. "She died because of you… it was your fault, everyone knows it was your fault… Dean has always known it was your fault and he's sick of seeing your pathetic face and reminding him of that night…"

"That's not true!" Sam snapped, anger flashing through his tears.

"Isn't it?" the man grinned. "You don't look like your daddy, now do ya? Nah… you look like your momma, and Dean's sees it all the time… so does your dad… they can't stand the sight of you!"

Laughing cruelly, the man slithered out of the room, his words echoing in Sam's head. Sam squeezed his eyes shut, desperate to convince himself that the man was wrong, that he was just trying to push Sam's buttons… but he had to admit that he had always known that he looked more like his mother. He had finer features than his father and brother… his eyes… he wasn't like his Dean and their dad.

Was it really that hard for his family to look at him? Did they remember the pain of that evening when they saw him? Did his father remember having to leave his wife burning on the ceiling while he rescue baby Sam? Did he ever regret his decision… did he ever wished they had all gone up in flames?

Did Dean blame Sam for their mother's death? Sam had often wondered if it had been his fault… if his mother had died because of him…

If the slimy man had been right about that, was it possible he was right about the rest?

Sam took a deep, steadying breath as he tried to clear his thoughts, to calm himself. What the man had said was ridiculous. The hate and anger that it would have taken for his brother to abandon him, leave him for a demon to deal with, shoot him… try and kill… none of it seemed right. Dean had always taken care of him, watched out for him, protected him. Sam knew, even though Dean had never said it, he knew that Dean loved him. He had seen it when he'd been sick, seen it when Dean had held him after a nightmare... he had seen it when he'd woken up in hospital mere days before.

Dean loved him, Sam was sure of it…

Or…

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Before Dean had been able to move any further, his father's face appeared before him. He gritted his teeth, determined to leave the room and find his brother's body… he would not leave Sam out there in the cold and dark for another night. He knew his father hadn't found Sam's body, had heard them talking about it earlier, but he wasn't going to let that be the end of it. He didn't want Sam to be… there were so many creatures in the woods… the thought…

"Dean, you've gotta lie down, dude," John told him, the tone of his voice making Dean think that psychologists probably used the same one on crazy people. "You're not well, Dean… but Pastor Jim is coming and he's going to help you feel better, okay?"

Dean shook his head, checking his gun was loaded before turning toward the door.

"Dean, you have to stay here," John said, more force in his voice this time. "You can't leave right now, okay?"

Dean sighed, switching off the safety on the gun.

_Dean, I'm scared!_

He closed his eyes a moment as Sam's voice invaded his mind. He had to reach his brother, no matter what. He had to get to him, he couldn't leave him there like that… He aimed the gun at his father, willing to do anything to get to his brother.

_Dean? Are you there? You have to help me…_

"I'm coming, Sammy," Dean muttered, glaring at his father. "Move out of the way, old man… don't make me go through you."

"Dean, put the gun down," John's words were an order, and John's orders were always followed… at least, always by Dean. Dean grinned, seeing his father's outstretched hand. "Come on, son, give me the gun…"

"Not this time," Dean told him. "Get out of my way! I'm going to find Sammy… I have to find him, he's scared…"

"Sam's fine for right now, Dean," John assured him. "Bobby thinks he knows what's got him and he says we have time before we have to worry too much… Sam's going to be fine, we're going to get him back…"

Dean shook his head.

"No," he whispered. "He's not fine… I shot him… I killed him… he's never going to be fine again! But I can at least go to him so he wont be scared anymore… he wont be alone…"

"Dean…"

"NO!" Dean cried, his finger shifting against the trigger as he stepped toward his father.

And then nothing but darkness…

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

John let out his breath slowly, leaning back against the door.

"Thanks Joshua," he said gratefully, eyeing the man standing a foot behind when Dean had been standing a moment before. Joshua nodded and pocketed his gun in his waistband. He'd knocked Dean out with the butt of the gun, John realised. Under normal circumstances that would have led to some serious problems between him and his friend, but given the nice bruise Bobby was sporting and the fact that Dean was seconds away from pulling the trigger, John knew that Joshua had done the only thing he could have.

"You okay?" Joshua asked him.

John nodded, though he was sure he probably looked a bit pale.

"Bobby?" Joshua turned to the man getting up from the floor. "Nice bruise…"

Bobby glared at him, rubbing his chin carefully as he worked the kink out of his jaw.

"You guys get him back in bed and I'm going to call Jim again," Bobby announced. He glanced at John as he and Joshua pulled Dean up carefully. He hesitated, knowing that his suggesting was going to be met with anger and disapproval, but given the situation he knew he had to be suggested. "Maybe we need to consider…"

John shook his head, pre-empting the suggestion.

"No," he stated simply.

"It might be the only way to keep him alive…"

"Bobby, no!" John snapped. "Dean would hate it!"

"But if it keeps him from doing something…"

"I'm not restraining MY SON!" John yelled, anger flashing his eyes. He would have clocked Bobby one if he hadn't been holding Dean up, and he knew Bobby knew it. He took a deep breath and sighed. He knew Bobby was trying to save Dean's life, but John stood by his decision. "If Dean woke up like that, he would hate it… he would…"

Bobby nodded.

"Okay, John," he acquiesced. "We wont restrain him, but we might have to figure out some way to keep him down at least… we can't go through this every time he wakes up."

John and Joshua carefully laid the unconscious form of John's son on the bed.

"How much longer, do you think?" John asked, turning to face Bobby.

"I don't know," Bobby admitted. "He seems to be deteriorating a lot quicker than the others. Jim's not due til tonight, it's only just passed noon now… I know the infection works differently on everyone, but this isn't something I've ever heard of. I've never known anyone to go down hill so fast."

Bobby left the room to make the call, leaving John to stare down at Dean.

"I don't understand," he admitted, speaking to Joshua but refusing to take his eyes off his son. "When did things go so wrong? Why would the infection do this to Dean?"

Joshua hesitated. He'd been reading up on the creature, going over Sam's notes as well as Bobby's and reading the extra books Bobby had brought with him and he had a theory on why Dean's symptoms were so much worse than other victims… he just wasn't sure John would want to hear it.

John recognised the silence and glanced up at Joshua carefully.

"What?" he asked. "You know something, don't you? Tell me."

Joshua sighed, leaning forward in his seat.

"I think that it depends on the persons natural instincts," Joshua told him. "I don't think it can just plant emotions in someone's head like this… I think there has to be a tiny something there for it to work with."

"You mean Dean was already suicidal?" John asked, feeling only a small amount of anger rising in him. He was too exhausted to be able to feel anything but fear, devastation and anxiety and they took all the energy he had.

"No," Joshua answered, shaking his head. "Not suicidal… willing."

"Willing?" John rubbed his eyes, trying to follow his friends explanation unsuccessfully. "I'm too tired to pry this out of you, Josh, just… tell me, okay?"

"What I mean is, Dean has been willing to die for Sam his whole life… it's all he's ever known. He's only ever been Sam's big brother and it's been his job to look out for the kid, even if that means killing himself in the process… Dean doesn't care about his life as much as Sam's, and that's what I think the creature's working with. That and the fact that Dean carries this huge responsibility everywhere he goes. He's responsible for Sam's safety regardless of what's going on… and now, he's shot Sam… imagine how much that would mess with his head normally and then tell me how bad it could get if a demon were to be able to use that against Dean…"

John listened carefully, finally understanding what Joshua was saying.

"This is my fault," John whispered, wiping away a stray tear. "I always told Dean it was his job to look out for his little brother… even before we started hunting. I raised him to watch out for Sammy and now…"

"It's not your fault, John," Joshua assured him. "Dean didn't do it because you told him to… he did it because he loves Sam. You never had to tell him to look out for Sam because he would have done it anyway."

John sighed.

"That's not much better… either it's my fault for raising Dean to carry that burden with him for the rest of his life, or the creature is using his love for Sam against him… either way, it's going to kill him and I…" John shook his head, barely able to continue. "I don't know how I'm supposed to deal with this…"

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

_"Your brother ain't comin' he's the one who put you here, kid… he's the one who left you behind, dumped your ass on us…"_

Sam heard the words as if the vile man was leaning over him, whispering them in his ear. His stomach churned at the memory of him, of his tongue flicking over Sam's skin… he shuddered involuntarily, hoping – praying that he would never have to see him again. He would take the man with the bone saw in an instant over that… thing!

But Sam couldn't deny that he hadn't effected him. The tears that had fallen from his eyes for well over an hour after he left had been painful as Sam sobbed, his body shaking with every painful tear. He wished he could see his brother, knowing that the minute he saw Dean he would know that the man had been lying, that he hadn't known what he was talking about. He needed to know that Dean didn't hate him, that he would never blame him for their mother's death… Sam couldn't help but wonder, after all he had considered his responsibility for that night more than once. How could he not? She had died pinned to the ceiling of his nursery, after all… John had had to leave her behind while he got Sam to safety… they had abandoned their home, their lives, everything they had because of that night… and Sam couldn't help but think if he'd never been born then maybe, just maybe his mother would still be alive.

She wouldn't be his mother then, since he wouldn't exist, but sometimes Sam thought that would have been better. Dean could have grown up with two parents, a nice home and a white picket fence… he could have gone to school and had a normal life instead of running around after a brother that seemed to be a magnet for trouble.

If nothing else, Sam often wondered if the Winchester family would have recovered quicker if he had died that night instead of Mary… she was the soul of the family, the reason they hunted, the reason they moved from one town to the next, searching for whatever unnatural creature they could find to hunt and kill… if she had survived, John wouldn't have had to start the hunt.

If only Mary hadn't walked into that room that night…

_"You don't understand yet, do you? You're brother knows where you are, you stupid little boy... why do you think he shot you? He left you for us! He gave you to us!"_

Just as Sam thought the painful shudders had subsided, his breath caught in his throat again. He felt starved for oxygen, like his chest would explode as he heart leapt painfully against his ribs. He could feel the panic rising inside him, and immediately wished Dean was by his side.

"Dean," he whispered to the darkness, trying to draw strength from the thought of his brother the way he would have if his brother had been with him. Dean's face entered Sam's mind, but instead of seeing comfort he saw anger… hate… the way he had looked just before…

Sam closed his eyes, wanting to forget the world, leave everything behind and just hide. He wouldn't let these people tell him his brother had abandoned him, he'd never believe it! It wasn't true, it wasn't even possible! Dean had risked his life for Sam more than once, and…

Maybe that was the point, Sam thought suddenly. His mind was a mess of confusion as his thoughts began contradicting each other. He felt like there was a battle raging in his mind as his mind tried to departmentalise everything he'd heard, everything he'd seen, everything he knew and thought he believed.

Dean loved him…

He had been watching out for him their whole lives…

He had protected him…

They had fought side by side…

They were brothers…

Dean shot him…

_"That's what you think," he whispered, flicking his tongue over the drip of blood. "He's just happy that you're not around to bug him anymore… he wished you were dead ever since you killed your mother!"_

Sam felt sick, wishing he could have a shower – or at least wipe his face. He couldn't accept that the Dean he had known his whole life could have blamed him for their mother's death, but he had to wonder if it had ever occurred to him. It had occurred to Sam, after all… he thought he'd seen it in his father's eyes more than once when he'd done something wrong and he'd seen sadness, disappointment reflected in his fathers gaze. Had he been wondering if he'd saved the right person? Had he been thinking their lives would have been different – better – if only it had been Sam who'd died that night.

No! Sam shouted silently at himself, angry at his own thoughts. He had just been a baby! There was no way anyone would blame him for what had happened! How could anyone think that a six month old could be responsible for a fire!??!

His father loved him…

His brother loved him…

'So where are they, you moron?' a tiny voice hissed at the back of his mind. 'Why are you still here? Cold… alone… scared… if they loved you, they'd be here by now… wouldn't they?'

_"She died because of you… it was your fault, everyone knows it was your fault… Dean has always known it was your fault and he's sick of seeing your pathetic face and reminding him of that night…"_

'See?' it continued, taunting him. 'Dean knows… he's always known… he just hasn't wanted to tell you, he didn't want to hurt his mom by telling you that it was your fault… she wouldn't want you to know that, but she blames you too… don't you realise what you've done?'

"I didn't," Sam whispered, hearing he catch in his throat as more tears threatened. "I was just a…"

'What? A baby? You think that makes it okay that she died because of you?'

"No," Sam sobbed, his heart breaking in his chest. "It's… it's all my fault…"

'You've always known it, too, haven't you?' the voice told him. 'You knew it was your fault… you've lived with it every day… lived with seeing it in their eyes whenever they looked at you. That's why Dean's the favourite, because he's not the one who killed John's wife! You are! He'd never love you, never!'

Sam cried, his breathing becoming even more erratic. He wondered how long he'd been in this dark place for, if he would ever see daylight again… he wasn't sure what time it was, but he knew he hadn't seen the first man in some time… the man with the bone saw… anything would be better than this, than having to live with his own pain and guilt…

_"Nah… you look like your momma, and Dean's sees it all the time… so does your dad… they can't stand the sight of you!"_

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Bobby was worried. He had been trying to call Jim for what felt like forever but he wasn't picking up. He had been driving non-stop for… Bobby scratched his head, glancing at his watch unable to remember when he'd first called the man. But he was really starting to worry… he should have figured something out, some way of taking care of this himself, some way of saving Dean without bringing Jim into it…

He knew that Jim would have hit the road immediately upon hearing the Winchester's were in trouble and needed help. He knew that Jim wouldn't stop until he reached them, until he'd helped them, until he'd pulled them out of the fire. The man had such love for the family that he would do anything for them, but Bobby regretted the call just the same. He remembered how worried Jim had been when he'd been told what had happened, and now he wondered…

Was Jim okay? Could he have fallen asleep at the wheel? Had he been in an accident? Was he…

"Bobby?" Jim's tired voice finally sounded through the phone line. "How is he?"

Bobby was even more worried upon hearing the exhaustion in the pastor's voice, but he swallowed his concern and filled him in on what was happening instead.

"He still has time," Jim reminded him carefully. "He should have at least until tomorrow…"

"I don't think so anymore," Bobby disagreed. "He's getting worse… and a lot faster than I had expected… either John was wrong with the days he told me, or this infection is working a lot faster on Dean than we could have been prepared for… I don't think he'll make it until morning…"

Jim sighed, weariness and grief taking their toll on him.

"I'm about three hours out," Jim announced. Bobby could hear him pressing harder on the accelerator and as worried as he was he sighed a breath of relief. "I'll see you really soon…"

Bobby closed his phone and pulled the door open.

"John, I…"

Darkness overcame him before he even realised what had happened…

**TO BE CONTINUED…**

**A/N – So Missy is back, but a little sluggish. Sorry about the delay in this chapter but thanks for all the reviews so far, they are really encouraging and inspiring! Keep 'em coming!**

**Feeling a little blah, could use some cheering up… and nothing cheers me up like reviews!**


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